When I'm gone
by magicjohnson32
Summary: NFL superstar in the making? Or reckless imbecile throwing his life away? After Edward loses his position at the Seattle Seahawks, and potentially his career, the New York Giants throw him a lifeline. However, his new agent, and old high school flame, Bella Swan, was someone he was hoping he'd never have to see again.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! This is a new story I'm starting (obviously) and I would love some feedback! Anyway, please, give it a chance, keep reading, and let me know what you think.**

"Today's top story is coming out of the Seahawk's in the wake of their shock first round post-season exit at the hands of the Jets. Quarterback Edward Cullen, according to statements given to police, went out after the game to the Last Supper Club in Seattle's popular night spot of Pioneer Square. Inside the venue he got into an altercation with a group of young men, which led to them being expelled forcibly from the premises."

"The altercation then continued between Cullen and the group of five men on the sidewalk and in the street, with the clearly heavily inebriated Seattle Quarterback throwing wild punches at the men, who according to witnesses were equally as drunk, and proceeded to fight back."

"What resulted was a four minute brawl which ended with the two hundred and twenty-five pound, six-foot four-inch Cullen being badly beaten after being swamped by the three remaining men, having reportedly concussed the other two males in the group."

"A witness dialled 911 and emergency services arrived promptly. Edward Cullen was transported to the Swedish Medical Centre where he is currently being held for tests and further observation, but the hospital spokesperson gave a statement that Mr. Cullen's situation is stable, and his injuries are in no way likely to impact his long-term health."

* * *

><p>The young man in the hospital bed cringed as he hit the mute button on his bedside remote, unwilling to listen to any more of what the NBC anchor had to say. He went to run his left hand through his hair, but winced at the movement, his arm currently sheathed in a white bandage. He was going to have to get used to that, for the next 2 to 3 weeks at least. Similarly, he would have to be careful about the right side of his ribcage, where according to the doctor; he had at least two broken ribs, and maybe a third.<p>

He leant across to examine the range of buttons available to him, before selecting one carefully.

Within seconds, two nurses and a doctor sprinted into the room, skidding to a halt.

"What is the emergency?" enquired the doctor, panting slightly. They were garmented in stereotypical hospital clothing, white lab coats to match the decor.

"Can I leave now?" he asked, smiling pleasantly at the trio.

"Mr. Cullen, that is an emergency notification button. You press that if you think you are in immediate danger, for instance, if you believe you are having a heart attack, or are suddenly crippled by overwhelming pain. Not because you want to ask a question."

The doctor was looking less than impressed by Edward's clear disdain.

"Well, the attending nurse wouldn't tell me I could leave, or even when I could leave. I don't like not having my questions answered," Edward replied evenly.

"Mr. Cullen, we will be releasing you into your own care this evening, if everything goes to plan. You may not be concerned about the situation, but you have suffered serious blunt force trauma, and we want to hold you for observation for the remainder of the day."

Edward scowled darkly at the man, who turned, shaking his head almost that he must have thought Edward was unable to see.

As an afterthought, he turned back, leaning in the door, as the nurses waited in the corridor.

"You might want to reconsider that burning desire to get out of here, Mr. Cullen. The media scrum outside is about ten people deep."

* * *

><p>With a distinct lack of alternative sources of entertainment, Edward turned the television back on, and flicked through the channels to Fox Sports. He was once more the topic of conversation.<p>

"We are getting a report out of Seahawks HQ now that there is soon to be a press conference held by Head Coach Pete Carroll, owner Paul Allen and GM John Schneider, within the next hour or so, where they will address the most recent indiscretion by their star rookie Quarterback Edward Cullen."

Fox Sports studio analysts Terry Bradshaw and Howie Long launched into a yearlong review of his on-field and off-field achievements and controversies, with an accompanying video montage.

"Edward Cullen was drafted consensus number one pick by the Seattle Seahawks in this year's NFL draft held at New York's Radio City Music Hall from the University of Florida."

"He was the first player to win the Heisman in his freshman year at Florida, leading the Gators to a National Championship after an 13 and 0 regular season, repeating this feat in his Sophomore year, once more receiving the Heisman trophy, winning the award by a record margin for his unprecedented college performances. "

"He returned to his home state after the minimum two years in college with a reputation as 'having an arm that had the power of John Elway, and the accuracy of Steve Young'. To top this off, however, the two hundred and twenty-five pound Cullen put up unheard of numbers at the NFL Draft Combine for a Quarterback. Try a 4.42 for the 40 yard dash, a 10'5 broad jump, a 40 inch vertical jump and a 48 foot kneeling power toss. This combined to provide a SPARQ rating of 126.99, which was up there with the highest on record, not just for a Quarterback."

"Cullen didn't come without his detractors, however. There were reports of laziness, including a refusal to study game tapes, attend trainings and preseason as well as attitude issues that resulted from several incidents that made headlines nationally regarding behaviour away from the pitch, that landed Cullen with a probationary sentence, and community service for a range of offences."

"Initially however, Seattle fans were able to dream that their relationship with their new Quarterback would be untroubled, as he began the first four weeks of the season as the leading passer in the NFL, and the early candidate for MVP. Then in the week leading into the Seahawks fifth round game against the Raiders, Cullen was suspended for two games for reportedly failing to attend an entire days compulsory practice."

"Cullen returned in week seven to have his worst week of NFL football to date, throwing four interceptions, no touchdowns, and was promptly relegated to the bench for the final quarter of what was his worst game in the NFL to that point."

"In the post game press conference, Cullen unleashed an expletive ridden rant about the Seahawks front office, and Head Coach Pete Carroll, and was promptly suspended for another game, after issuing a retraction and an apology that was broadcast nationally."

"He returned week 9, and had a career best game against the Giants, throwing a four touchdown passes, and adding another two rushing touchdowns, for a total of over 600 all purpose yards."

"His hot form would continue until the matchup against the Ravens in week 12, where he was concussed after being sacked by linebacker Ray Lewis in the second quarter."

"Sidelined for two games, Cullen returned for the final three games and performed admirably, however the rumours of conflict amongst the team remained. These rumours were solidified after stories emerged about Cullen squaring up to several of his teammates at the Seahawk's New Year's Eve party which was held on team owner Paul Allen's yacht, _Octopus_, the 415 foot private vessel of the founder of Microsoft."

"No disciplinary action was taken as a result of what transpired at the event; however it was cynically suggested that this was due to the fact that Cullen was to play in the Seahawks first postseason appearance since 2007 where they crashed out of the divisional playoffs after losing to the Redskins."

"Yesterday's game against the New York Jets was labelled 'the worst performance in Seattle history' by coach Pete Carroll after the Seahawks imploded on offence, failing to register a single point. Speculation has been rife that Edward Cullen fell out so badly with the team that they had to be talked out of refusing to play prior to the kick-off."

* * *

><p>Edward tuned out, trying to control his anger. He could feel it bubbling away inside of him, and he hoped that no one was going to disturb him in the next five minutes, for their sake.<p>

Truth be told, Edward knew everything that had just been said was true. He was arrogant. He was abrasive. He laid into his teammates for the smallest errors, and had no room for forgiveness. His problems away from the pitch had manifested themselves on the pitch yesterday, and he knew he was in trouble.

But just how much trouble, he hadn't realised until he noticed that the coverage had switched to the press conference.

"Edward Cullen has, on repeated occasions, this season, breached terms of his contract," Pete Carroll stated, reading from an obviously prepared statement.

The room was packed with media, Edward could tell even from the television coverage and Pete Carroll was struggling to make himself heard over the ambient noise.

"He has, with scant regard for the good of his team and this franchise, its fans and all who have followed it nationally and internationally, acted in a manner unbecoming of a member of the Seattle Seahawk's Football Team. His personal and behavioural issues have caused this team great embarrassment, and I regret to announce that with the full support of the coaching staff and the board, we have decided to terminate his contract with immediate effect. Thank you, we will not be taking questions from the floor."

Of course, questions were abundantly and loudly shouted from the press pack, and the scene erupted in the repeated flashing of cameras as the Pete Carroll and the members of the board filed out quickly.

* * *

><p>Edward blinked, his mind blank. What had just happened? He took several deep breaths, closing his eyes. Then he stopped to assess indeed what had just happened. He had just been fired. He, Offensive Rookie of the Year, seventh in the years MVP voting, widely regarded as the next Joe Montana, had just been given the shove?<p>

He looked around for his iPhone, and then realised that it had probably been destroyed in the brawl.

Further investigation procured a package sitting by his bed, which included the remains of his ruined cell, his wallet and his keys. He located his clothes from the previous evening; jeans, a blood spattered white shirt and black leather shoes, which he slipped into without thought.

He was not staying here in hospital while his life and career fell apart. Where the fuck was his agent? Why hadn't he come to visit him? Where was his manager? His public relations person? Where the fuck was everybody?

He ignored the fact that his white shirt still had red blotches on it, and walked out of his private room into the corridor. He ignored the puzzled glances of the nurses and doctors as he made his way through the hospital, down floors in the elevator. He finally reached the lobby, and stepped out towards the door.

"Mr. Cullen! You have been told that you are to be held for the remainder of the day!" a middle aged nurse called forcefully from behind the reception desk, obviously recognizing him.

"If anyone so much as lays a hand on me, lady, I'm going to break it," Edward replied, without even glancing at her.

He could hear her desperately calling security, but Edward had no intention of stopping for anyone.

"I really don't think you want to go outside Mr. Cullen!" she shouted in a last ditched effort to halt his passage to the door.

Edward disregarded this, and stepped out into the sunlight.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm hoping a few people like this story, but even if they don't I'm continuing regardless. Soldier on and all that. Anyway, please read and review!**

Across the other side of the country, Isabella Marie Swan sat in a large glass and steel conference room in Manhattan's Upper East Side, listening to lots of men talk.

These men who were talking were doing it both on the television on the wall and in the room she was sitting in.

On the television, Chris McKendry and Bill Pidto were discussing the day's biggest and most controversial story on ESPN, but with nothing like the fervour that the men in with whom she was sharing the conference room were discussing it. There were almost 35 people in the room, struggling to be heard over one another. They were the biggest personas in the New York Giants Football Team, and included; John K. Marks, President and Chief Executive Officer; Steve Tyler, Chairman and Executive Vice President; Jonathan Tyler, Treasurer; Chris Marks, Vice President of Player Evaluation; Lacy Brown, Assistant to Chairman and Executive Vice President; Ann Duran, Assistant to President and CEO; Nicole Kale, Assistant to President and CEO.

These were the most powerful people within the organisation and they had been called into an emergency meeting, along with the heads of the public relations and marketing departments to discuss an issue that Bella was all too familiar with; Edward Cullen.

This was not her favourite topic of conversation. Under any circumstance, but the proposal that was being suggested here made her sick in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

><p>Two months ago, Bella had graduated from UCLA with a Communications Studies major, in a town crawling with opportunities, or so she was told. She applied for every job going, but not even one of them would see her without references or experience. A month later, and not even a sign of employment of any form coming her way, she decided to go and visit a friend she'd made at UCLA who'd moved to Manhattan to further her modelling career.<p>

Rosalie Hale was approaching six feet tall, and Bella would have estimated that a good five and a half feet of that was leg. She had curves like, well, a supermodel. Which was exactly what she was on her way to becoming. She had big contracts for the upcoming New York fashion week, and was managed by the largest modelling agency in the world, Elite Model Management.

This was not how Bella's current position had come about, however. It happened after Rosalie had been out at a club one evening, so she had told Bella via email, when she'd been accosted by virtually the biggest man she'd ever seen. They regularly joked about it now, but Rosalie had admitted she'd never been more terrified of someone in her entire life. The man-mountain had asked if she'd come dance with him.

She'd stammered what she considered a polite refusal, describing the feeling as being 'mesmerized' by his sheer mass.

He'd left her alone for a few minutes, but then returned.

"Baby, you must be a broom, because you just swept me off my feet," had been his follow up line, complete with puppy eyes and a soppy smile.

They'd been dating ever since. Rosalie had only discovered a few days later that he was just any giant either, he was a Giant. A New York Giant, to be exact. A star linebacker, Emmett McCarty was famous for his inability to take anything seriously, and his delightful persona. No one had a bad thing to say about him. Aside from opposition quarterbacks.

That included Bella. Emmett was perfect for Rosalie in every way, in Bella's opinion. Rosalie had numerous good traits, but patience and a laid-back attitude were not two of them. She was intense about everything she did, and Emmett was the perfect antithesis to her.

When Emmett had been introduced to Bella, she'd told him what she had gotten her degree in. It had taken about a week and a half of arguing, but eventually he'd dragged her from his and Rosalie's apartment into the centre of Manhattan on the Upper West Side to the very building she was seated in now on the corner of Lexington and East 59th Street, the less than one year old administrative and training centre for the New York Giants.

* * *

><p>She'd been intimidated as soon as Emmett had pulled up out the front of the glass facade, with the huge NY Giants logo glittering in blue, red and white on the front. Emmett had virtually frog-marched her into the building.<p>

She'd moaned and complained about her treatment by someone who she'd only met last week, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. It helped her realised that beneath the exterior, Emmett had some serious steel that made him such a good football player. He led her by the arm, through the complex, up floors, until they reached a door, which Emmett knocked upon and then opened without waiting for a response.

"Sorry this is... oh it's you Emmett!" said the man, standing to warmly shake Emmett by the hand. "I'm just finishing up interviewing some candidates for an advisory and assistant role in the comms department."

"Yeah I heard that," Emmett had replied, and then gestured to Bella. "You wouldn't be able to see one more would you? I know it's last minute, and she's no more prepared than you, but if you were willing?"

"Sure, why not. You can't be any worse than the candidates I've already seen. All Ivy League stamped degrees, no football passion."

"Peter Jean-Paul," he said holding out his hand to Bella. "So please say you're not another Ivy League graduate?"

"UCLA actually," Bella had replied.

"So you should know a thing or two about the game then," he grinned, gesturing for Bella to seat herself at the table.

Bella concealed a grimace behind a smile, and even though she didn't say anything, the words 'you have no idea' came to mind.

* * *

><p>She was currently sitting next Mr. Jean-Paul in the room, who was easily her favourite boss of the few she'd had. For one, he'd informed her that she'd lose her job if he insisted on calling him 'Mister' anything. It was strictly Peter only.<p>

She'd only been there for three weeks, but she loved it. It was a thoroughly enjoyable job, she spent her time organising media appearances for members of the team, including print pieces, radio interviews and television appearances. Of course, the team's superstars, such as Emmett, had their own publicists, but they worked in liaison with the club's department, and any team appearances or interviews with multiple players had to be co-ordinated carefully.

Bella sat in the room, and watched the montage with a kind of morbid fascination, relieving moments that she'd been separated from as a result of her own actions. She hadn't mentioned anything to anyone about the fact that she'd known Edward at high school, and she sure as hell wasn't about to tell anyone they'd dated in their senior year, either. She wasn't going to jeopardise her position before it had really begun.

The images of the press conference were beamed through to an absolutely silent audience, listening to the short speech as the Seattle Seahawks announced that they would be cutting Edward from their roster that day. There was an audible intake of breath, and then the debate started.

It wasn't much of a debate, however. With no recognisable starting quarterback on their roster, only a mediocre draft pick with which to find a new one, Edward Cullen was the perfect fit for them. The only issue to be hammered out was his off-field problems, but the management were in-between a rock and hard place; fans would not accept consecutive years without playoff action. This was New York after all, nothing less than success kept them coming back.

As John Marks clearly stated, this was not a decision that the franchise could take lightly, and if there was a viable alternative, they would take it. But they needed a star quarterback, and Edward Cullen was the only one they could get their hands on.

It looked like Edward was going to jeopardise Bella's future for her. Peter had said the media reaction could be manageable, and serious time and effort would have to be put in to rebuilding and managing Edward's image in the public eye, but he also agreed that it potentially could be far more damaging to the franchise to miss the playoffs again and cede more ground to their cross town rivals, the Jets, than to take a risk on their quarterback. He also acknowledged the potential for disaster, if Edward exploded on them and melted down, it could lose them an entire season. But as it was pointed out, if they didn't try to sign Edward as a free agent, the end result was likely to be exactly the same.

The Giants management were not stupid, however. They agreed that they'd meet with Edward, and would make an appraisal of his attitude and commitment themselves, before giving him a contract. There was only one thing fans hated more than underperforming, overrated egomaniacs, it was underperforming, overrated egomaniacs on massive contracts that crippled teams financially. Redskins anyone?

"Alright then," said Tom Collier, staring at the television keenly, "set up a meet. Let's get better acquainted with the real Edward Cullen."

* * *

><p>The 'real' Edward Cullen was standing in his $8 million apartment in downtown Seattle, breaking things. Violently, and at a rapid pace. All the artwork in his house had gone first, then the china in the kitchen. Then he'd thrown a chair against one of the windows, cracking it from floor to ceiling.<p>

Then he'd collapsed on the couch, his face in his hands, and had sat in that position for almost half an hour.

The pack outside the hospital had been ferocious, and he'd jumped in a taxi, shielding his face from the flashing bulbs, trying to ignore the questions that were screamed in his ears as he battled his way through. He'd arrived home in a whirlwind, grabbing his home phone and dialling his agent's number after locating it. He'd never seen the use of his agent, James Pope, or the people he'd insisted surrounding Edward with from Pope's own company, like his manager and his publicist, but the cheques had kept rolling in, and Edward was never short of cash, so he hadn't paid it too much thought. But now was when he saw the value of the man. Now was when he needed some assistance, to get his life and his career back on track.

He'd been put through to a secretary, who told him the Mr. Pope would speak to him as soon as he was able. That had been fifteen minutes later, and Edward could tell something was up as soon as the man he heard from so rarely spoke.

Five minutes and some clumsy apologies about public image, and 'not the right person to take you forward' bullshit, Edward Cullen now had no job, no agent, no prospects and a deep sense of betrayal. When the going was good, everyone wanted a piece, when things got tough, all the hangers on were the first to abandon the sinking ship.

Edward had found it difficult sleeping that night. He'd resolved that the first thing he needed to do was assess the likelihood of him getting another shot in another town. He'd sat down and listed what he had to offer, and teams that he thought could be interested. Maybe if he contacted them it would show that he was willing to do what it took. He could leave everything else, the money, fame and notoriety. He just wanted to play football, the game he loved so much.

He'd disconnected his phone soon after arriving home, because people kept calling it, reporters mainly, shouting questions about how he was feeling, and whether he thought he'd play again down the line at him. Eventually he'd just pulled the phone off the wall and thrown it at his plasma television in disgust.

He'd sat on his bed, with his laptop and his list, and waited for the press statement from other teams to roll in. He didn't have to wait long. The Dolphins were the first to say that they wouldn't be willing to take on a player with issues such as his. That had hurt, forcing Edward to cross off the team that had topped his list. The two years he'd spent at Florida with the Gators were two of the best years of his life, and he'd have loved the opportunity to return to his second home.

Next came a whole string of teams who'd had fairly awful seasons, ruling out signing him for reasons mainly consisting of lacking the need for him due to them having high draft picks, or already having franchise quarterbacks, in their opinion. No one would say it, but he knew that they were all lies. If he behaved like a priest off the field, teams would be lining up to have him sign on the dotted line.

He'd gone to bed with nearly half his list of potential candidates gone, and an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The next morning he awoke, and immediately fired up his computer once more, to discover the latest news. A search of 'Edward Cullen' in Google News however, now returned 1500 results, ranging from the brawl to his firing, and everything that could possibly be related to his future.

What really made Edward cringe were the articles questioning whether he had any future in the NFL at all. Rick Reilly, Bob Ryan, Steve Rushin, all famous journalists in the sports field, all questioning whether Edward had the capacity, and indeed whether he was worth the risk. He read them for a long time, compiling article after article. Then he began to print them. He was feeling restless, unsure of what he was supposed to do with himself, so he did something that relaxed him, something he hadn't done since elementary school.

Smiling for the first time in a while, he pulled down the picture board that had come with the apartment when he'd bought it after signing his first contract, and placed it on the floor in his open plan kitchen. It contained no photographs, a painful reminder to him that while he had plenty of acquaintances, Edward lacked any true friends.

He rummaged through the draws, until he located a tube of glue, which had obviously been placed there by the housekeeper who maintained his apartment every Monday and Thursday.

He also had the stack of articles he'd printed, and he'd decided to make use of them. He began to stick them to the board, wrapping them around the sides, overlapping each other, covering each other, until there was not an inch of board peeking through, on either side. It had taken maybe 300 pieces of paper, and another hour or so finding articles that either criticised or doubted him, but by the end he'd collected a sufficient number for his purpose.

The glue dried after fifteen minutes, and over the top, in a thick, black permanent marker, Edward wrote a quote. "When you doubt your power, you give power to your doubt," read the board, in thick lettering. He stood back and admired his handiwork for a second, then went to wash his hands.

He was unsure why he'd just done what he did, but he could feel a fresh sense of purpose. He looked at that board and felt a new feeling of ambition. He wanted to prove them wrong. All those 300 writers, all the 300 million citizens of the country he lived in, he wanted to show them that he was not some arrogant, overpaid footballer who thought he could waltz through life. He'd grown up with nothing and built himself up once before, and he could and would do it again.

He stood up, admiring his handiwork. He glanced around, finally deciding to rehang it back on the wall he'd removed it from, for want of a better position. He was still deciding whether he approved the position where his doorbell rang.

He was surprised at this; he lived in a highly exclusive apartment block, usually the front desk would call and inform him of any visitors. Then he remembered that he'd pulled his phone from the wall.

He went to the door, and opened it.

* * *

><p>Bella had not enjoyed the flight over. Not one little bit. She was sitting there, in first class, her mind working overtime. Peter had insisted that his entire team be present, if they were going to impress upon Edward Cullen how important the recreation of his image was to them. Unfortunately, the teams 'brass' had agreed, and so there they were, all five members of the communications department, along with ten other senior executives of the franchise and head coach Tom Collier, were flying to Seattle.<p>

They'd been calling for four hours, desperately trying to contact Edward to try to set up a meeting, but all his forms of communication were down. They contacted his agent, who informed them that he was no longer in that role as of the previous day, and he couldn't help them. They searched for friends or relations, but Edward appeared to have none. In the end, they decided they'd go and meet him head on, whether he was prepared or not.

Bella knew the names of his relations, but she wasn't about to divulge them. If he was contacted through them, and then she turned up, he'd never forgive her, and probably scupper the deal. Actually, it wasn't like he'd ever forgiven her anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**A few people have wondered what could have caused Edward and Bella's animosity. Well, here's the first part of that tale...  
>I really appreciate everyone's reviews, as well as the people who have favourited this story or put it on their alerts, so thanks again. As always, please read and review!<strong>

_**Flashback**_

_- Tuesday September 4__th__, 2007 at 7.45 AM_

_Bella stood in the car park of Forks High School, Washington State, watching the beginning of a new year. Students stood around, reacquainting themselves and reliving their holidays. Behind them the school rose up on the hill, an amazing old building that resembled most closely a castle. _

" _Bella!" screamed a hysterical voice from behind her, and she turned only to be crushed by the embrace of Jessica Stanley. She was followed by Lauren Mallory, the third member of their little trio. _

_Jessica continued to talk. "Oh Bella, how were your holidays? Did you go away? I went up to Crystal Mountain; it's so beautiful although the reception on my phone wasn't so great. I made daddy get me one of those things that you attach to your phone to improve the signal, its seemed to work because I could still text you, you did get all my texts didn't you? Anyway..."_

_Bella tuned out, as one was regularly want to do whenever Jessica opened her mouth, and watched a strange sight appear around the corner. A rusty red pickup truck turned the corner, and noisily pottered into a parking space at the other end of the car park. _

_Bella considered herself, as the captain of the cheerleading team and nominated social queen, to be aware of every single student in her year level. Certainly, she did not think she'd missed a student who owned a vehicle that stuck out like a sore thumb such as that one. So unless someone had decided to go retro on them, she was almost certain that they had a new student in their year level. _

_Certainly the vehicle they drove suggested an outsider; She herself owned a silver Volvo C30, and nearly all the other students had cars that reflected their more privileged upbringings. Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of a convertible Saab 93 carrying Mike Newton, captain and quarterback of the football team, and his friends and teammates, Tyler Crowley, Ben Cheney, Austin Marks and Conner, whose surname escaped Bella. _

_Mike considered himself the king to Bella's queen, and that as a stereotypical high school, the quarterback of the football team should date the head cheerleader. Bella, for want of a better option, had gone on a couple of dates with Mike, but refused any subsequent offers on the grounds that the first two had not been anything to write home about. _

"_Bella, hey!" he called, as he cruised to a halt in front of the three girls, his unruly friends hanging out the sides of his overcrowded car. _

"_Oh hey Mike!" exclaimed Jessica dreamily, while Bella ignored the greeting._

"_Have you seen the new kid?" exclaimed Mike, clearly keen to strike up conversation. "Have you seen what he's driving!"_

"_Where's he from?" Bella asked, watching the red truck as the driver killed the engine._

"_Apparently, according to my mother who took a job as the school registrar, he is from the projects in Port Angeles. He got moved schools; mom said something about issues with being bullied or targeted or something. Sounds like a bit of a freak, if you ask me," Ben Cheney replied, watching the truck also. _

"_He's from the projects? I'm surprised they let such dangerous filth into a school like this," Mike said, waving goodbye._

_- Tuesday September 4__th__, 2007 at 8.05 AM _

_Bella sat in a classroom, listening to Mr. Banner begin his drone relating to the importance of the final year of schooling, and how vital it was to ones future. It was interrupted, however by a knock on the door. _

_Mr. Greene, the headmaster, stood there in the doorway, but it was not the schools head teacher that Bella, or indeed any of the other students in the room noticed, it was the young man who stood by his side._

_Piercing green eyes were framed by an exquisite face, a traditional male beauty that was unrivalled by any Bella had ever seen before. He had amazingly bronze hair, that on anyone else would have just looked messy, but on this boy just made him look all the more alluring. He had a shy smile that did not match his appearance, and far from carrying himself like his looks suggested he would, he was hunched and nervous. Still, he was tall, taller than Mr. Greene anyway, Bella guessed six foot five inches when her mind was in order again._

"_Mr. Banner? This is Edward Cullen, he is a new transfer student from Port Angeles, please make him feel welcome."_

_The boy followed Mr. Banner's instructions to find a seat, as every eye in the room followed him progress to the back corner of the room, where he sat down. Bella noted with some surprise that the new boy, who looked as if he'd walked out of an underwear modelling advert, was wearing a plain white t-shirt, even though it was September and coming up for the start of winter._

_Her thoughts were diverted away for a second, however, as a piece of paper was placed on her desk by her teacher._

"_A pop quiz," he announced, "to see what you forgot while you were away."_

_- Tuesday September 4__th__, 2007 at 8.45 AM_

_Bella sat back, and read over a couple of her answers, editing them slightly. She was fairly confident that, as always, she had acquitted herself well on the test. The time was up, and they swapped papers, quickly marking them and handing them back to each other._

_The bell rang, and as they all rose to leave, Mr. Banner called for Edward and Bella to stay behind. Bella waited by the biology teacher's desk as the class filed out, throwing the two of them furtive looks._

_Edward stayed seated, not meeting the teacher's eyes._

"_Mr. Cullen, have you ever studied the subject of biology before?" Mr. Banner enquired finally, after the room was empty. _

"_Yes sir," replied Edward quietly, but even in those two words, Bella could hear the velvet quality to his voice as he spoke, that betrayed an elegance that his demeanour didn't mimic._

"_Mr. Cullen," Mr. Banner continued, looking concerned, "did you honestly know nothing on that test? Nothing at all?"_

"_No sir," Edward said, still not looking up._

"_Right then," came the answer, after a long pause, "well, you'll have to get down to the tutoring centre and start straight away. Miss Swan, I know its early in the year, and you haven't had a chance to get settled yet, but could you make time to go to the tutoring centre this afternoon and help Mr. Cullen find his feet? If you could, get Ms. Lane to run some tests, have a look over his records, and see what he knows. I'd really appreciate it,"_

_- Tuesday September 4__th__, 2007 at 3.10 PM_

_Bella arrived at the tutoring centre, and pushed open the door to find Edward Cullen in the motion of reaching for the handle on the other side of it. He looked shocked to see her._

"_Sorry I'm late," she mumbled, wondering what the hell was going on. She'd never been nervous or even shy around boys, what was different about this one?_

_To her relief though, he seemed even more nervous than when she'd seen him that morning._

"_Sorry," she apologized, stepping out of his path, "where were you headed?"_

"_Home," he said, looking up to meet her eyes, "I thought you'd forgotten."_

_Clearly he'd thought she had chosen not to come, but she ushered him back inside._

"_No, no, I was held up after class. I don't think we were introduced properly; I'm Isabella Swan, but just call me Bella."_

"_Edward Cullen," he responded._

_The awkward moment was broken by the arrival of Ms. Lane, who had arrived carrying Edward's school records._

As the clouds had flashed past her window, Bella reminisced. She remembered her final year of school as if they were yesterday. They'd scanned Edward's school records, but it had turned out his previous school, one of the worst in the state, had given him straight D's to pass him through to the next year so he didn't have to repeat.

His school work showed no signs of any learning having occurred, and Ms. Lane was making pained faces as each academic blow was struck, while Edward had sat there with his head hanging.

Eventually, more to give him something to do, while she poured over his records, Ms. Lane had given Edward an IQ test to sit, and had Bella mark it.

Bella had joined the tutor centre as part of her co-curricular activities on top of cheerleading, hoping that well-rounded involvement would get her a place a prestigious university, in the course of her choice.

Bella had marked the IQ test, and then in shock, had marked it again. Edward had scored 131 in his IQ test, a direct contrast to his grades the ranged from awful to non-existent. She'd taken it to show Ms. Lane, who'd been equally surprised.

After a few days, Edward had eventually admitted that a combination of virtually non-existent teaching and a desire not to stand out born of a survival instinct had led him to make sure he'd did nothing to draw attention to himself.

The next three months of that term were illuminating, to say the least for Bella. She agreed to tutor Edward, after school, three times a week to help him catch up years of academic neglect. His natural intelligence was conducive to rapid learning, and that was exactly what he did.

None of Bella's other pupils had ever been so rewarding, he picked things up as fast as she could teach them to him. Although, she had tutored Mike Newton, and he had spent all the time trying to pick her up, so it wasn't much to build on.

It wasn't the rapid pace of his learning that shocked her, though. It was Edward himself. He was quiet and withdrawn, and the fact that he'd gotten zero on his first test hadn't helped his notoriety on top of Mike Newton telling everyone who'd listen that he came from a project housing block.

Edward hadn't talked about his parents, even though Bella, unable to control her curiosity, had asked a few probing questions. It had taken two months for him to open up at all.

He told her that he lived with his mother and his step-father in Port Angeles. He didn't talk about his biological father until much later, and Bella had been shocked into silence when Edward had casually told her that his father had been imprisoned for murder, and as fate would have it, had been murdered in a dispute while in jail two years prior.

It was two months into his school life that Edward had taken up football, after the year level co-ordinator had informed him that he needed some co-curricular activities, and enquired as to whether he'd played any sports at his previous school.

He'd mentioned football, and had been shipped off to the football field to see the coach, who just so happened to be Mike's father, Jonathon Newton, an abrasive man who ran a chain of outdoor equipment stores.

He'd been exceptionally displeased with being lumped with "the charity case" as he referred to Edward whenever he actually paid him any regard whatsoever, as Bella covertly watched while training on the other side of the field with her cheerleaders.

Bella knew that being part of the football team would be tough on Edward, given that it was populated by individuals who delighted in making him miserable, but Edward never trained with the team, instead being sent to a practice field where he practiced his throwing by himself, went to the gym to bulk up and read over the playbook, memorizing the teams plays that they'd all grown up with.

At games, he sat on the bench, watching as the best football team in school history continued its undefeated streak from the first game of the season.

Bella had bigger problems with Edward however. It pertained to her, in reality. Whenever they had their tutoring sessions now, Edward was keeping up with his work, finishing his projects and acing his tests, so he had grown more confident. Similarly, his persona had changed, from a bud that was crushed into a freshly blossoming flower.

Bella found his newfound confidence irresistible. Honestly, she found him irresistible. It was a truth she was struggling to accept, although she was not alone.

The female population of the school, while wary of his background, couldn't help to notice, like Bella, that Edward cut a dashing figure in the schools hallways, and there was more and more whispering and giggling behind hands as he passed as the year went on.

For Bella's part, she knew he no longer needed her assistance by the middle of the year, but she wasn't prepared to call a stop to the sessions. She couldn't. She enjoyed the three hours she spent alone with him too much to have the willpower to call an end to them. She hoped feverishly that he felt the same.

They continued to have their after school meetings, until a February day in spring.

_- Thursday February 1 4__th__, 2008 at 3.05 PM _

_Bella was running late again, having stayed back to talk to one of her teachers about a project that had been set. She pushed open the door to the room, to the not unusual sight of Edward already hard at work, writing something or other._

_She watched him for a second, marvelling at his appearance. For an individual who boys regularly mocked for owning only a very limited wardrobe, he managed to maintain a remarkable, effortless attractiveness that led to mostly jealous comments._

"_Hey," Edward said, without look up, and Bella blushed at being caught watching him._

"_Hey yourself," she replied, dropping her bag, and pulling out some books. _

"_So, how was your valentine's day?" he enquired, dropping his pen to the table, and leaning back on the chair with a casual grin that led Bella to quickly find herself a seat. _

"_Ah, it was alright I guess," she replied vaguely._

"_Oh come on, an international movie star like yourself?"_

Bella felt a pang when she remembered this. It hurt her now to remember, but the truth was she hadn't wanted to become a PR specialist. When she was 16, she'd auditioned for a role in a Hollywood film that was being shot locally, at the suggestion of the woman who ran the modelling agency she'd worked for. She'd gotten the role, and loved it, and loved the response that everyone had given. Some people recognised her in the streets, and the thrill of seeing herself on the big screen was intoxicating. So she gave up modelling for children's clothes, and thrown herself at acting.

She'd landed a bigger role in another movie, and spent a month in Texas filming another part, which garnered her some national attention. She'd continued acting, appearing in television series up until the beginning of the year, when she'd decided to take a break, and concentrate on her school. She planned to go back to it after she'd finished. She regretted that decision every day of her life.

_She grimaced, and shook her head. "Everyone mentions that, even you now? You're the new kid, have some respect for your elders and your betters," she grinned._

"_Ah, maybe if they were both true, rather than you just being older," he chuckled back. "So come on, how many did you get Scarlett Johansson?"_

"_A lady never tells," Bella replied, with a mock sneer._

"_Oh good, so you are going to tell me then," laughed Edward, as Bella smacked him lightly on the head._

"_Don't say I abuse you either," Bella laughed again, but Edward grimaced, flinching slightly._

"_Everything alright?" she enquired, looking worried._

"_Yeah, yeah, so how many did you get?" he said, his face returning to its normal expression. "More or less than ten?"_

"_More," she said, blushing once again._

"_Oho, alright, 15?"_

"_More," _

"_25," _

"_Close enough, 26," Bella replied._

"_God, surely you can find one reasonable one to say yes to out of that lot?" Edward laughed._

_Bella paused, and then looked him in the eye._

"_I didn't get one from the one I wanted," she whispered._

_There was silence._

"_Funnily enough, neither did I," replied Edward, not breaking the gaze. _

_Bella reached across the table and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards her._

"_I'm about to make 26 boys, and an entire nation of movie loving teenagers, very jealous," he grinned, his lips an inch away from hers._

"_How many girls am I going to make angry?" laughed Bella softly._

"_You know what, I couldn't care less," Edward replied, as Bella pulled him the remaining distance to her, as their lips locked together._

**You lot better dine out on this. Because there may or may not be a small wait until that comes close to happening again. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Another large chapter for you to sink your teeth into, this completes Bella's flashback, and gives you all the context you need. Hope you enjoy it, and as always, please read and review!**

Whereas their tutoring sessions had been wasted beforehand, now they were a farce. They would spend an hour getting better acquainted with each other, and would leave breathless and ruffled, but very happy. Inside of school hours, Bella mentioned it to no one, but she was never happier than those hour long sessions with Edward three times a week.

Jessica and Lauren had been into her all year about getting a boyfriend, but she ignored them. Although she wasn't quite ready to announce to the world that she was going out with the boy everyone thought was beneath them in status, she wished she was brave enough to do it.

Then came the event that shaped Edward's life. Mike Newton broke his leg in the first quarter of one of the last game of the regular season before state championships, and was carted off to hospital in an ambulance. His father, Coach Newton, being a man obsessed with his sports, stayed to coach the game out.

_- March 7__th__, 2008 at 8.05 PM _

"_Crowley, you are going to take direct snaps, we are going to grind out a win here without our quarterback!" Coach Newton shouted at his charges as they came off the field at the end of the quarter._

_Bella had watched Edward during this, willing him not to be forced into action. The last thing he needed was to have any confidence he gained shredded in front of the entire student body. Tyler Crowley clearly sensed an opportunity._

"_We have a second quarterback, coach, why don't we use him? If we don't play him now, when are we going to use him?" he said, a smirk plastered across his face._

"_Crowley, we are undefeated thus far, and he's never even seen a down this season! This isn't the time!"_

"_If it goes wrong, drag him. But let him play a series," Tyler suggested, the evil glint ever present._

"_Look Crowley, I don't even know if he can hold the ball," Coach Newton replied, but Edward was listening now._

_He walked over, holding a football. _

"_There you go coach, I can hold it." He pointed to a bin 30 yards away. He cocked his arm back, and threw the ball in a perfect spiral, dropping it into the bin. "And I can throw it okay, too."_

Edward had played the rest of the game. And started the next two as well. He'd turned what had been a mainly run based attack into an exceptional passing team, throwing touchdowns left, right and centre. He was suddenly a minor celebrity in the school halls, receiving high fives as he went.

One afternoon, when they were sitting in the Tutor Centre, lying against a wall, entertaining each other, Edward had popped the question. Yes, he asked her to the prom.

She didn't know what to say, but her heart won through, and she said yes.

_- Friday May 2__nd__, 2008 at 6.00 PM_

"_Bella you have to tell us," Jessica begged, as she painted Lauren's nails._

"_No, I don't," Bella replied._

"_So what, we, your best friends are going to have to wait until he comes to pick you up? Oh I'm so desperate to know, who could you possibly have picked to be worthy of being Isabella Swan's date for the Ok! Magazine "Prom of a Star" special!"_

_This was what was killing Bella. The contract for her last movie, a teenage romantic comedy centred around a high school prom that had screened over the previous summer break, had a stipulation for public promotion and appearances, and one of these had been a piece in the magazine about her senior prom to coincide with the movies DVD release. But she'd forgotten, and hadn't been able to tell Edward. This was supposed to be the night where they could tell the school they were going out, she wasn't ready to announce it to the entire country._

_Jessica and Lauren kept at her though, and eventually she broke, desperate for some advice._

"_Alright, alright, I'll tell you. I'm taking Edward," Bella breathed, nearly in tears._

_There was a painful silence._

"_You're doing what!" they both shrieked together._

"_Honey, he's from the projects,"_

"_Does he even own a suit?"_

"_This is your night, you are the star!"_

"_How could you do this, when you've got your magazine deal and all!"_

"_You're supposed to be showing off your handsome, rich purebred, who dotes on you, not your back alley mongrel that you picked up off the street! How could you?"_

_Bella's tears were properly flowing now. "The worst part is I haven't told him yet. What am I going to do?" she moaned._

"_You haven't told him yet?" Lauren said, her eyes suddenly alight. "That means this can be fixed. We can make this problem go away,"_

"_You can?" Bella asked, through the tears._

"_Yes, give me your phone, I'm going to call Edward."_

_Bella shakily held her phone up. _

"_What are you going to do?" Bella asked._

"_I'm going to tell Edward that you're too sick to come tonight, and you're really sorry but you won't be accompanying him,"_

"_But I don't feel sick!" Bella exclaimed._

"_God, it's good that you're a talented actress, because wow... I'm going to lie to him Bella, and then call up Mike Newton, and make him ditch whoever he's going with so he can go with you. Because you need a date with some prospects beyond a lengthy spell in prison," Lauren said._

"_But..." Bella protested, but Lauren quietened her._

"_Honestly Bella, when they do the profile on you two, what do you want people to see? The guy your with has a scholarship offer to play football for the Washington State Cougars, is an all-American high school football captain, whose not considered a complete no-hoper, with a famous father? Or do you want a boy who is best known because he has grown up as a virtual leper?"_

_Bella would regret that moment of weakness and indecision for the rest of her life. _

Lauren had called on her behalf, after being forced to call the housing projects commission number to find out where Edward was living because he wasn't listed in the phone book. This, she said, was just another example of why Mike was better.

The conversation with Edward was short and sweet, Lauren informing him of how sorry Bella was, but she was feeling very unwell and wouldn't be able to make it. Lauren then fished slightly, just making sure there was no chance he was going to attend, seemingly satisfied with the answer, she then hung up.

Lauren then, moving into another room so Bella couldn't hear, rang Mike Newton. That call, if anything, was even shorter.

"_This isn't right," Bella whispered to Lauren, as she ducked into the limousine, followed by Mike Newton, Jessica, their dates, and a photographer accompanied by an interviewer. _

"_Shhh... just enjoy it, it's your night to shine," Lauren whispered back to her, as they sat awkwardly in the back of the vehicle, the presence of the magazine crew making everyone nervous._

_They ignored everyone except Bella and Mike, however, the latter having thrown his arm around the former's shoulders much to her chagrin while the photographer took as many snaps as he could while the interviewer asked questions._

_Bella cringed as Mike breathily lied right in front of her to the magazine about how close they were, and how this had been both their dreams since when they were kids growing up together. Bella just smiled, and nodded, answering questions about her interests, what she was wearing and what school life was like for a girl like her._

_The limo arrived at the Palace Ballroom in Port Angeles slightly early, as the magazine crew had requested time to take photographs. The six of them stood there, posing while the photographer took pictures of them in front of the limousine, in front of the Palace Ballroom, on the faux red carpet and with anything else they could think of. _

_Other people had begun to arrive in their limousines and Bella grimaced as she saw the parade of faces watching her._

"_Bella?"_

_She pivoted so quickly she nearly fell over. _

"_Edward? What... Why..." she stuttered at the sight of Edward Cullen._

_He was wearing a black tuxedo, and Bella wasn't sure he'd ever looked as good as he did just then. He had a skinny black tie on, and a plain white shirt, but on him in seemed to make him stand out even more, rather than fit in._

"_What are you doing here? I thought you were sick? Lauren said you were really unwell?"_

_Then he spotted Mike Newton's arm around her. The breath visibly left him as he deflated._

"_You didn't... I thought you were different, Bella, I really did. I thought you could see past the fact I wasn't rich, or from a good family, I thought you were the one person in this school who judged people on who they were, rather than where they came from. Guess I was wrong."_

"_Cullen, you don't deserve her!" shouted Lauren._

"_Maybe I don't," Edward sneered, the first true look of anger on his face that Bella had ever seen. "But by the looks of things, you lot deserve each other. Have a nice life."_

"_Shut the fuck up Lauren!" shouted Bella, pulling away from Mike's firm grasp._

"_No, your friend," he said derisively, "is right. I don't deserve you. Look at me, obviously because I'm poor and not from old money, I don't deserve you."_

"_See Bella, even he agrees," interjected Jessica._

"_That's quite some company you keep there, Bella. Maybe all the inbreeding has damaged their mental capacity. More than being them already had, anyway."_

"_Edward, please wait. Just listen to me, I beg you..." Bella said, running towards him as fast as her high heels would let her._

"_No Bella, as someone once said, actions speak louder than words. Although me telling you to go fuck yourself is as good as I'm going to get," he said, turning his back, and walking away._

Bella had sat on the steps of the ballroom and cried for ten minutes straight. Unbeknown to her, the photographer had been snapping photos of everything that had occurred while the interviewer had a gleeful smile on her face. The entire story of Bella getting busted at her prom, two-timing both her high-school quarterbacks would be a cover article in the next week's edition of _Ok! Magazine_.

"_I'm going after him," she declared, standing up, her makeup running in her teary state._

"_Bella, don't leave, stay. Stay with Mike and enjoy yourself. You don't have to ever talk to Edward Cullen again, and that's the way things are supposed to be."_

"_Seriously Lauren, shut the fuck up, or I'll do you an injury. This was your idea, and your plan. I was an idiot to agree to it, why the fuck would I want to go with this jerk-off?" she shouted, pointing at Mike. "Seriously, he's a complete douchebag, and Edward is everything he isn't. And now I've gone and fucked it up. So just stop talking."_

_Bella had located her phone in her bag, and tears still streaming down her face, gone through her call register, until she found the number used when Lauren had called Edward's home. She rang it, and the phone was picked up._

"_Brandyne speaking," came a rough, high pitched female voice._

"_Hi," choked Bella, "I'm looking for Edward Cullen, is he home?"_

"_No, he's gone out to work he said, fucked if I know when he'll be home."_

"_I think he finished early, would I be able to come around and see him?" Bella asked._

"_I don't a shit what you do, as long as you don't disturb me or Brett. You two fucking or something?" she asked, as if it was the most normal thing in the world._

"_No...no. Please, can I have your address, I really need to see him."_

"_We live in the Greenvale Projects, darling, can't remember for the life of me what number flat though." With that, the woman hung up._

_Bella just walked away from the Palace Ballroom without another word._

_She'd never really considered Edward's parents, not individually anyway. She knew they were poor, and lived in a housing project in Port Angeles, but she'd never thought about them as people._

_Edward certainly never talked about them, but she sensed that his home life was less than perfect. But if he didn't want to talk about it, she wasn't going to push._

_Although at this point, it seemed he didn't want to talk to her about anything, ever again._

_The walk took her twenty minutes, and a couple of requests for directions from people walking the streets, giving her state of dress incredulous glances. _

_She'd never been up this end of town before, and nervously she walked the streets until she saw the sign that told her she'd arrived._

_She was grateful that there was a front desk, where she enquired as to where the Cullen's lived. They told her the flat number, and she set off up the block of flats._

_The building was exactly how she imagined a block of project housing; dirty, rundown, dangerous. There was graffiti on every surface, syringes lying in every corner. In the stairwells, she was forced to elude the grasp of two men who were sitting on a landing, syringes surrounding them. On several floors she could hear the sound of arguing and things breaking, but it wasn't until she reached the third from top floor, Edward's floor, that it was seriously loud._

_She moved along the landing, past the identical rooms with a door and single front window with the flimsy cloth curtain pulled. She stopped in front of door number 127, except that the metal lettering had been removed and the number was sprayed in black on the grey door. _

_She listened, because she could hear the sounds of shouting and screaming from inside. She waited a moment, hoping it would die down, but it showed no signs of it. Eventually she knocked, and waited for another couple of minutes._

_There was no response, and the arguing and crashing sounds continued. Eventually, she drew up her courage, and opened the door herself._

_The scene in front of her was hideous. _

_There were three people in the room; Edward and the two people Bella assumed to be his mother and step-father. _

_His mother was a small, gaunt woman, with bleached blonde hair, and teeth to match. She was screaming, but the words were not intelligible. Meanwhile, her husband, a medium height man who was built like a truck, was wearing a black singlet and was covered in tattoos, had Edward by the collar against the wall. _

_They all stopped what they were doing when the door opened and looked at Bella. Edward's look of terror mixed with fury was what scared her most, not his mother's drunken stare, or his step-father's curling smile. _

"_It just seems to be my lucky day today," his father said, not releasing Edward. "Another valuable piece of clothing, a beautiful suit and dress double to sell, and I'll have even more fun removing this one."_

"_If you fucking lay a finger on her," Edward breathed at his step-father, "I'll rip your throat out."_

_Edward's look of total fury shocked Bella, but she began to back out of the room as Edward's father moved towards her, releasing Edward, who slumped to the floor, holding his ribs._

"_Come here, pretty girl, I want your lovely blue dress. It will make me a fortune, it might even pay back all the gambling money I owe Michael," he grinned, hands outstretched towards her. _

_He got to the doorway, but then a shape rose up behind him._

_Edward swung the chair across the back of his father's head, knocking him out cold, while his mother screamed abuse at her only child._

_He was panting heavily when he looked up at her._

"_What the fuck are you doing here?" he breathed. "How did you find where I live? Why did you come?"_

_Bella was still too shocked to say anything, but Edward grabbed her by the arm. _

"_You are going home. I have nothing more to say to you," Edward said, not meeting her eyes as he dragged her down the stairs, past the druggies and the fight that had broken out._

_He'd grabbed her cell, and called a cab, and she missed the comforting feeling of his hand on her arm as they stood in silence._

"_So that's your family," Bella said, but Edward remained silent._

"_Please Edward," she begged, standing in front of him, her hands on the lapels of his almost ruined suit jacket. "You've got to understand how sorry I am, I panicked because of the magazine interview, I hadn't told you, I didn't know how you would respond if I told you. Please just talk to me,"_

"_You liar. Honestly, you don't think I didn't hear what Lauren said?" Edward burst out, suddenly. "I knew you were uncomfortable with where I came from, but I couldn't change that. I thought that you were the only person who would be able to move past that. See me for me. Guess I was wrong,"_

"_No you weren't wrong, I panicked. Lauren pushed me into it, I wish I had gone with you," Bella said, tears reappearing._

"_Stop denying that this had anything to do with you. Lauren didn't do it by herself. It's done Bella, after today, we aren't even friends anymore. We don't speak anymore."_

"_Please don't do this Edward, you've got to know how sorry I am. Everything that happened today is my fault, I know that. I'll pay for your jacket, for your ticket, because I've never regretted anything more in my entire life. Please just don't cut me off,"_

_But Edward's eyes flashed dangerously once more._

"_Is that how you see me? Does that," he said pointing to the block of project flats behind him, "make me your charity case? Or maybe that's what I've been all along. Maybe I'm nothing more than a good cause, something you can point to amongst your friends, and smile patronizingly as you help the 'less fortunate' to improve your own social standing, to make yourself look like a good person? Have a look at the definition of altruism sometime, it might teach you a thing or two."_

_He glanced down the street._

"_Your cab is here. And here's where I go back to my life, and you go back to yours. Never to cross paths again. I won't ever look at your face again if I can help it. Have a nice life, and go fuck yourself."_

_And with that, he turned and walked away._

"_Edward..." Bella begged, taking a step after him._

_But he'd disappeared into the shadows, and they hadn't shared a word since._

The school football team had gone to the state championships the next week, as the article about Bella's prom disaster appeared in the magazine.

Suddenly when she was at home, if she watched the sports news, Edward's name started to appear in the high school reports. He was making a name for himself on the national stage.

Three weeks later, the school football team returned state champions, with Edward as their MVP and everything started to go crazy. He was suddenly the hottest property in the country, and as the school honoured the team with a special presentation on the football field, the entire school in the stands.

Football coaches from universities loitered in the car park, or mysteriously turned up to assemblies, or even ambushed Edward as he moved from one class to another.

He was suddenly the nation's hottest quarterback prospect, and everyone wanted a piece of him.

Of course, Bella observed from afar, because Edward, true to his word, had not spoken a word to her since prom night. He wouldn't even look at her. In the halls, he glided past, followed by admirers and well-wishers. He ignored most of them; in fact, he ignored almost everyone, not that it made a difference to his popularity. In fact, only Mike Newton appeared to have a dislike for Edward, but wasn't going to talk to Bella anytime soon, either.

After the magazine article, Bella had gone from queen bee to outcast worker. No one would sit with her in class; no one would talk to her during breaks. Edward was now revered as a god, and everyone knew that she'd lied to his face. High school was unforgiving.

Edward's announcement that he would be attending the University of Florida was a nationally televised event, and was the leading sports story for nearly a week afterwards. For his part, Edward had been transformed from a quiet, meagre boy, into a cocky and self-assured man. He swanned everywhere, while maintaining his aloof demeanour when dealing with the student body.

Everyone had forgotten that he was supposedly from the wrong side of the tracks, and Bella didn't find out whether he stayed living at home. He occasionally had bruising on his jaw and around his eyes, but said he'd been playing football and everyone accepted the excuse because it made sense.

Only Bella knew better, but he didn't want her near him, let alone calling child services on his parents.

So the year passed, they graduated, and Edward's name was called as the schools valedictorian, an award that was given for achievement in a range of areas, even though Bella was certain she had beaten him, as had several other students in the year level. He spoke about the ideas of respect and trust, before closing with a tribute to those who had helped him achieve what he had achieved. Bella's name was noticeably absent, and then came the two minute applause, where Edward dipped his head, a smirk on his face as his lapped up the crowd's adulation.

Finally it was done, the doors burst open, and Edward led the year level out, hats were launched into the air, and Bella wouldn't see Edward's face again except on television for another three and a half years.

**Alright, it's back to the here and now from now on, I promise I'll make every effort to get that chapter ready ASAP :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Back to the present day! Hope you enjoyed the introspective, gives some context and sets things up nicely I hope. Anyway, please enjoy and review!**

The hall was overcrowded with people as the door swung open, and Bella was towards the back, only peeking through shoulders. She could still see him though, as he filled the doorway.

He looked a mess, but he was honestly the hottest mess she'd ever seen. Any other guy would have sacrificed limbs to look like that at their best. He was tired, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

"Who the fuck are you lot?" he asked, peering at the massive cohort filling up his hallway.

"We," said John Marks, "are the owners of the New York Giants Football Team, along with most of our staff and assistants."

"And you are here because?" Edward asked, his eyes gliding over the small crowd, but not spotting Bella, who cowered slightly.

"We have a proposition to put to you."

Edward was very aware that his apartment was in no state to be holding guests, given that there were still the remnants of his anger spurt littering the floor, so he suggested they find a conference room somewhere and hold their meeting there.

Edward was nervous. He knew this was virtually his last shot at the big time, and he needed to make the right impression. He tore off his Florida hoodie, and jumped into the shower. He changed quickly, throwing on a pair of business pants and a fresh light blue shirt, with some Italian leather dress shoes. He wanted to show that he was serious.

He stood in front of the mirror, and attempted to tame his hair slightly, and washed his face again, before grabbing his wallet and his phone and headed out.

A party of about 10 was waiting in the lobby.

"Where are the rest of you guys who were here earlier?" Edward asked, shaking John Marks and Steve Tyler's hands.

"Our communications department has gone ahead to the conference room to prepare our presentation for you,"

"Well, if you're ready, would you like to follow us?" Steve Tyler asked, gesturing to the waiting cars at the front of the building.

They arrived at the office complex, and travelled through the building, to a door.

"Mr. Cullen, after you," John Marks said, opening the door for him.

Edward stepped inside the room.

Immediately his eyes locked on to one individual in the room, and his jaw went slack. He gaped for a second at Bella, as another man started talking to him.

Deafly, he shook the man who introduced himself as Peter, followed by three other individuals who he worked with.

"And finally, Isabella Swan, whose new here, as a communications advisor," he said, gesturing to Bella.

Edward's mouth was still wide open.

Bella had changed slightly from his memory. She was slightly taller, and if anything, the years had made her even more beautiful. The time had filled her curves out, and her longer legs in that office secretary outfit made him slightly uncomfortable between the legs.

"I didn't see you in my hallway," he muttered, and she seemed equally as stunned.

"Well, moving along," said John Marks, sharing a puzzled look with his head of communications. "We here at the New York Giants believe we have something to offer you, as you can to us."

Edward was grateful he was sitting down, because the sight of Bella crossing her legs and settling back into her chair was agonizing for him. He tried to watch, as a presentation about what both parties could offer each other was made, and he was given earnest talks about how this could be exactly what he needed.

There was the flip side though. There was talk of contract stipulations, of on and off field performance based clauses as well as incentives. He would be walking a tightrope, and the contract would not extend past a year, for now at least.

Edward tried to concentrate, he really did. But after everything that had happened, then seeing Bella here, had thrown him completely.

The entire process was over in an hour, and John Marks turned to Edward, who he was seated next to.

"So, what do you think? Would you be interested? We have two contracts drawn up, which we can give to your agent to look over if you wish, and you can get back to us. We would like a response within the week, however."

Edward shook his head. "I don't have an agent, and I don't need anyone to look over contracts for me, I'll look over them myself right now."

Edward's anger at Bella had not disappeared, neither could he forget it. But the fact she was involved shouldn't affect his decision. It couldn't affect his decision. He had no other offers, and he didn't know if he would be getting any other offers. He had no choice.

"Whatever happens, I'll be signing one of these contracts today," he said, and John Marks shook his hand firmly as the room broke into applause.

"Don't make me regret this," the man said, but Edward was looking only at Bella, who was staring straight back at him.

Edward had two sheets of paper in front of him, two contracts to choose between. Both contracts had a stipulation that he was not allowed to be out past midnight within 72 hours of a game, only a very limited amount of alcohol, no smoking, no drugs, no criminal activity. All these carried an instant voiding of the contract, and he would be cut immediately. Also, there were requirements about public appearances, and an agreement that he would do whatever it took to assist the communications team to revive his public image in line with the New York Giants franchise's image.

The contracts were different however. On his left was a standard contract. Base wage of $6 million dollars a year, $2.5 million dollar signing bonus. On his right, however, was a more unusual contract, from his limited understanding of NFL contracting, anyway.

It offered a wage of (only) $2.5 million dollars, with a signing bonus of $2.5 million dollars for the year. He'd blinked when he'd first seen it. Both were less than the monstrous 5 year, $80 million contract he'd had in Seattle, of which $55 million had been guaranteed on top of a $10 million signing bonus, but it was more than he could have hoped for.

But it was an incentives based contract. Win a game, get an extra $250,000. Throw a touchdown, extra $100,000. Passer rating of 90 or over, an extra $150,000. There were others as well.

He did the sums quickly in his head.

"This could be worth $15 million dollars a season!" he exclaimed, looking shocked.

"Making you almost as highly paid as when you were at Seattle, if the contract rumours were true," John Marks said, with a smile. "But it relies on you playing well, and winning games."

"Playing well has never been a problem for me," smirked Edward, unable to contain himself.

"Yes, but getting the win for your team has," he replied, looking serious. "And if we commit to this contract, the two of us, that's what you need to understand, and will have to prove on the field. New York isn't interested in a team with stars; they're interested in a star team. Wins are what matters most."

Edward's response was to grab the pen of the table, and sign his name on the contract on his right. He was going to earn his wage, not sign for it.

"John, I think we might have a problem already," Peter said, after Edward had departed, most of the board accompanying him back to his apartment.

Bella remained seated, her mind in a whirlwind.

"What problem would that be?"

"I think our new quarterback is showing an unhealthy interest in Bella," Peter replied, grimacing.

Bella looked up at her name, as John Marks grimaced.

"Yes, I thought I saw him staring at you, Bella, I'm sure you saw the same thing?"

Bella realised she was being asked a question, and wasn't able to think straight. So she told the truth.

"I know him," she said, and they both looked puzzled. "Well, actually, I knew him. I haven't seen him since high school in Washington, but we were in the same year level. That's why he was staring at me,"

Peter nodded. "My mistake, I mistook it for something sinister. I'm just surprised you didn't mention it earlier,"

"We didn't exactly get along in high school," Bella replied, "or at least, we didn't finish amicably. He didn't like me very much by the end of the year."

"But surely it was petty? I mean, this is something we can use, Bella, the boy is going to need a publicist and he knows no one in New York as far as I'm aware. A familiar face will be welcome, no matter what childish spat you had in high school."

It was Bella's turn to go slack at the jaw.

"Are you proposing that I become his publicist?"

"And his temporary agent," confirmed Peter, nodding in agreement. "At least for the offseason, until he has found his feet, I think it would be an excellent idea, especially because you're sourced from within the organization and I trust you to do what's right for this franchise,"

Bella shook her head, disbelievingly. Peter was trying to guilt trip her.

"I don't know the first thing about being an agent, and anyway, won't he need to agree? He is going to dislike this ten times more than I do."

"Edward signed away the right to select his representative when he signed that contract. And you signed away your right to chose your job when you signed the contract on my desk," said John Marks, his business force being projected to its full extent, "so unless you both want to be looking for new ones, I suggest you take the one I'm giving you. Unless you want to find a new employer," he repeated, "I'd suggest you take it."

Bella didn't have a choice.

**A short chapter, but since I like you all so very much, I might put another one up tomorrow. Depends really...**


	6. Chapter 6

**I deliver on my promises... you better love me for it :)**

She stood at the door to his apartment, staring at the door nervously. She didn't even have his phone number or contact details, so she couldn't ring ahead. She'd been instructed to fly back to New York with him, to look after him, and make sure he settled in okay. The rest of the people who'd flown out with her had flown back that evening, contract in hand, media press release prepared.

Edward still hadn't been told, and Bella was there to 'break the good news to him personally', according to Peter, anyway.

She knocked once at the door and the velvet voice from inside told her to come in because it was unlocked.

She twisted the handle, and pushed it open.

Edward was facing the other way, bent over a bag which he was quickly packing with clothing. She couldn't help but admire the view in front of her as he packed.

"If you've come to take the rubbish out, it's in the laundry in a big bag. Sorry, I broke a couple of paintings and a vase when I was replacing a light bulb, the front desk already knows and I've paid for it," he said, still not turning around.

"Edward..." Bella said.

He stood bolt upright, and didn't turn for a few seconds.

"Bella..." he breathed, and then faced her. "What are you doing in my apartment?"

"I'm not here because I want to be," she said quickly, "this wasn't my idea, and I argued against it, but they said I'd lose my job otherwise. I told them that it was a bad plan, that you'd hate it, you'd hate me and it would be a complete disaster,"

"What idea would this be, pray?" Edward said dangerously.

Bella looked at his glittering eyes, and looked at the floor.

"I'm your new agent, and your new publicist,"

"You've got to be joking," was Edward's reply after a very long silence.

"I wish I was, honestly I do, but I'm not," Bella said.

"This is fucked up."

"I... uh... would you like something to drink?" Edward eventually enquired, to which Bella replied that she would like some water.

He poured her a glass, then one for himself.

"Maybe we should sit down?" he suggested, gesturing at the couches by his window.

"Yes, I think we need to talk about how this is going to work."

Bella sat on the couch opposite him, and looked out the window, trying to ignore the fact the she could feel his eyes drilling into her.

"Pretty much, what needs to happen is that I stay out of trouble, and then you and I never need to talk, and you take your 10% or whatever and I sit at home and read books all day," Edward said with a grimace.

"You didn't read your contract that carefully then, did you?" Bella said, picking up the copy of it Edward had on his glass table.

"I read the parts that said what I can't do, and how much money I earn," he replied defensively.

"There! That's it. The crux of the problem. You have to get your image sorted out, because that's how everyone thinks of you. They think you are an arrogant playboy who cares only about himself and the money. We have to change that," Bella was on her feet, waving the contract, until she went bright red and sat down again.

"Are you finished?" Edward enquired with a darkly amused grin. "I thought all I had to do was to steer clear of trouble, and everything would be fine?"

Bella shook her head, cursing the fact that she had to be the one to tell him.

"You're the face of a franchise now. A huge franchise, with lots of history, in a massive market. As per your contract, you have public appearances, magazine and paper commitments, TV spots; we want you with as many endorsements as possible, and plenty of advertisements to go with it. It's all in your contract," she added, as he looked more and more incredulous.

"No way," Edward said, grabbing the contract, before he slammed it down on the table.

"Yes way," replied Bella, standing up. "Now I need to do this properly. I need all your contact details, and I need all your files from your previous agent. All your endorsements, the contracts, the finance statements, everything."

"There isn't anything."

"What do you mean, there isn't anything?" replied Bella. "What about your deals, your endorsements?"

"Don't have any," Edward replied, continuing to pack, "I told my agent I wasn't prepared to make myself available for advertisements because they're a waste of my time. I don't need the money, why should I bother?"

"Because they give you a national profile! You seriously telling me that the 2010 Offensive Rookie of the Year, one of the most exciting players in the game doesn't have a single endorsement?"

"Nope. I didn't do any magazine articles, or newspaper pieces either. I didn't go to any awards shows, or kiss arse at functions, I went out and lived life. Don't get me wrong, I like money, but what's the point if you never have any time to spend it?"

"Well since you are no longer going to be going out and living it up, you are going to get some. As many as I can find that are appropriate, in fact. We need you to have a national profile, we need kids to want to wear your stuff, we want men to be you, and women to be with you,"

The last sentence had hurt Bella to say. It wasn't easy selling Edward something she didn't really want to do herself.

"And here was I wondering where the cold-hearted bitch in you had disappeared to. Of course, exploiting children's immaturity is alright with you," Edward sneered.

"Edward, if you play well, and you want to, you can have everyone in the world wishing they were you. This has nothing to do with exploiting children in any way shape or form. Every kid grows up with heroes; we just want to make you one of them."

* * *

><p>As Edward finished packing, Bella had remained on the couch, pulling out her Blackberry and booked two tickets on that evenings flight to New York.<p>

"Our plane's at midnight," she called to him through the hall.

"What do you mean 'our'? I've barely finished packing up, I'm not ready to leave." Edward said, appearing in the doorway.

"Well, we are starting tomorrow. I'm supposed to help you settle in, and I know New York pretty well, and you'll need a house or an apartment. So I was thinking I'd help you choose," she suggested, not looking up.

"You do realise that if I can get away with it, I'd like to spend as little time as humanly possible with you?" Edward replied cuttingly.

Bella blinked slightly, the words falling cruelly upon her ears.

"Of course. It was purely business. Feel free to go by yourself."

Edward paused.

"I'm not stupid; I won't need help, but I'd like it. Fine, I'll get on that plane. It's not like I haven't sold my properties already, anyway."

Bella looked surprised.

"I made a phone call while you were booking tickets. Someone has wanted this apartment for a year, and offered me a fortune for it, but I refused, because I liked it. The first piece of property I actually owned. But now he bought it over the phone, he's having the title deed drawn up now. My other house on the bay I actually was auctioning last weekend, but I didn't quite get the price I wanted. Doesn't matter now though, I'll accept the private offer. Still made a tidy profit."

"Are you a property investor or something?"

"Got two-thirds of the way through my business/architecture double degree. I majored in real estate, and now I'm finishing it via correspondence over the next three years," he replied. "I select appropriate properties, design and rebuild them. It's like a hobby."

"Yeah, I guess you could call it a hobby, if you're earning a couple of million a week. But you see, that's something people don't know. That's the kind of thing that comes out in interviews. But only if you do them."

* * *

><p>News about how quickly a new deal had been reached was beamed around the globe, and suddenly the media pack was huge outside Edward's apartment. He and Bella stood in his penthouse loft, staring down at the street where the scrum spread across the sidewalk, and photographers were standing on the other side of the street, taking photos of the building.<p>

"Shall we make a dash for it?" Edward enquired.

"Probably. Still, it's a poor look if you sneak out a back door. Makes you seem cowardly."

"And new Edward could never have that now, could he?"

"Certainly not. Front door it is."

Edward carried his bags down to the elevator. He had only his prized possessions, as Bella had suggested that when they got to New York, he needed to be seen out on the streets. Shopping was a perfect opportunity.

They got into the lobby, and the scrum was pressed against the windows. The doors were permanently open as the media people desperately tried to stop themselves from breaking the law by crossing the threshold while still holding their position.

Edward looked around, and spied a footrest by one of the couches against a wall. The cameras flashed madly, as Bella shouted at him to him hurry up, but he ignored them both.

He pulled the footrest into the doorway, just so it was slightly still inside, and then stood upon it. Bella watched him with a sudden flash of fear. He smiled reassuringly. She knew what he was going to do, and clearly didn't like it.

"Ladies and gentleman, please, quiet, please. I'd like to say something!" he shouted over the questions that were being thrown at him from the floor.

It took a minute, but eventually they were silent.

"As has been widely reported, today I signed a contract for next season to play for the New York Giants, and first off, I'd like to thank them for the opportunity to continue playing football, an opportunity I honestly thought I may not have again. However, I am leaving Seattle on terms I am not comfortable with, nor am I proud of. First of all, I would like to thank Pete Carroll and his coaching staff for the opportunity to play for such a great franchise, such a great team. I bear no malice to anyone within the organization and accept full responsibility for what has occurred. This was a problem of my own making. However, my biggest apology goes to the fans. The twelfth man. You cheered me on, rain, hail or shine. You packed out that stadium every week, deafening opposition teams, you made that field our fortress. And I betrayed you and your trust. For that I am eternally sorry, and I have fully earned all ire and virulent anger that has and will be directed my way. To the people of Washington, I am truly sorry."

Edward stepped down from the footrest, as the questions began to be fired in his direction once more, but he ignored them. He grabbed Bella's wrist, his bags, and pushed his way towards the cab that was waiting by the sidewalk.

* * *

><p>The plane landed at John F. Kennedy International Airport at seven the next morning. Edward and Bella had been seated in business class, and had slept through the journey, waking only as the plane taxied in.<p>

There was another cab waiting for them out the front the airport, along with another crowd of reporters, almost twice as large as the ones outside of his apartment in Seattle. His old apartment in Seattle, he reminded himself.

The sun was beginning to rise as the cab drove through Queens, the traffic beginning to thicken as they approached Brooklyn Bridge.

The sight of the sun rising over New York City as they crossed Brooklyn Bridge took Edward's breath away. The sun glistened over the top of the buildings, bouncing off the Empire State building, reflecting from the Chrysler Building. New York was truly a city without peer.

He was really here. He was playing for New York and he planned to leave his mark on this town.

**Okay, so this is a bit irrelevant, to this particular story anyway, but I was thinking the other day (shocking, I know). I was thinking about what the difference between a good story and a story that gets lots of reviews. Because when I started out, I used only to read stories with 800+ reviews, and for the most part they were good. But reviews are no guarantee of quality. I know people say it's down to personal tastes, but surely simply having good ideas never trumps good writing? I can read the most clichéd, unimaginative story you've ever read as long as the writing style is entertaining. It's the idea that's sustained the Rom-Com industry for decades, except the actors replace the writing. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts, I know it's a little self-serving, but what the hey, I want reviews and your opinion; how about you kill two birds with one stone :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Football is back! Is everyone excited? Personally, I'm over the moon, but that's only because NBA is still on damn lockout. Anyway, if you can be bothered, tell me who do you go for and why? But not before giving this a read. **

"I want to stop off and have a shower, get changed," Bella announced, "then we can go house hunting for you. I've already called Rosalie to let her know I'm coming."

"Rosalie?" Edward asked, as he texted from his new iPhone.

"She a model I met at UCLA. I'm staying with her for a while; I wasn't really expecting to get employment here to be honest."

"A model hey?" Edward said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, and come to think of it, she's also Emmett McCarty's girlfriend, so you better not even think about it."

"Emmett McCarty, as in _the_ Emmett McCarty. As in the Giants linebacker?"

"The very same. He got me this job pretty much,"

"I'll be sure to thank him for that," replied Edward sarcastically.

"Edward?" asked Bella hesitantly.

"Yeah?" he replied, watching the world go past out of the window.

"Do you think, I mean I know I don't deserve it, but is it possible we could start over again? You know, clean slate?" she asked, watching him closely. Rosalie and Emmett didn't know any of her past and she would prefer to keep it that way.

He returned her gaze, and nodded slightly.

"I'll never be able to forget what happened, because I told you more about me than anyone ever. You know, or at least, knew, more about me than my parents, how I felt, how insecure I was. You betrayed that trust. So I can forgive, but not forget."

Bella simply nodded as the cab cruised past Central Park at the Columbus Circle and continued up along Broadway. Trump International Hotel and Tower passed them by on the right as they turned towards Columbia University and the northern tip of the Upper West Side where this model named Rosalie lived.

Forty-five minutes later, the cab pulled up outside a townhouse in the Upper West Side, and the two of them got out. It was a nice, leafy part of New York, and Edward paid the cab driver, and removed his bags from the boot.

Bella meanwhile, skipped up the front stairs, and produced a key. She unlocked the door, and ushered him inside.

He stepped into the hallway, still awkwardly holding his bags.

"You can ditch those in the spare room, if you like," Bella offered, as she walked through, gesturing through an open doorway. Edward gratefully dropped them on the bed, and followed her through the house.

"Oh Bella, how was Seattle? Was he as unbearable as he seemed on tele..." the voice trailed off as Edward followed Bella into the room.

The living room was a spacious, open plan affair, combining the dining and living rooms. Edward stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting to be introduced to the two people in the room, although one of them was the massive Emmett Cullen, who was clearly giving him an appraisal, and the other who had just called him unbearable.

"Ahhh..." began Bella awkwardly, "Rosalie, Emmett, I'd like you to meet Edward Cullen. Edward, these are my friends Rosalie and Emmett."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Edward, shaking Rosalie and then Emmett's hands.

"Well, I'm just stopping off for a shower and to get changed, and then I'm taking Edward house shopping."

"I'll come help you pick an outfit," said Rosalie firmly, taking Bella by the arm.

Emmett was watching the second week of the playoffs on the plasma television, and he gestured to a seat.

"Feel free to wait it out, man, if Rosalie has anything to do with it, you might be waiting all day."

Edward nodded appreciatively, and sat down to watch with his new teammate.

"What is going on Bella? Why have you brought Edward Cullen home with you!"

Rosalie barely managed to stop herself from bursting out until they were behind closed doors.

Bella sat down on her bed, and lay back.

"I'm his agent and his publicist, at least for now, anyway. Not my choice, believe me."

"How did that happen?" Rosalie demanded.

"John Marks. Managed to get out of me that I knew Edward in high school," Bella said.

"You never told me that!"

Bella closed her eyes. She hadn't meant to say that.

"Yeah, he thought I should help him settle in because I knew him in high school. Didn't give me a choice apart from losing my job, actually."

"Just how well did you know him in high school?" Rosalie asked, looking dangerous. She was way too perceptive for Bella's liking.

"Well enough?" Bella skirted around the question. "I tutored him in senior year."

"So what you're saying is not only is he obnoxious and full of himself, he's also stupid? Way to break the footballer mould, Cullen."

"No, he was valedictorian, although I don't think he was actually the top performer. He was just the high school king, and he could do no wrong," Bella replied bitterly.

"So he was an arrogant jerk, and you hated him?" Rosalie asked.

"No, he was really nice... I don't really want to talk about it; actually, I'm off to have a shower." Bella said, opening the bathroom door, slamming it after her.

Edward was still sitting on the couch when Rosalie appeared back in the room.

She sat down on the couch, and reached for the remote, and turned the television off. Emmett protested loudly, but Rosalie shook her head.

"I want a word with our guest a second, while Bella is otherwise engaged."

"But Rose, its playoffs," whined Emmett pitifully, and Edward couldn't help but grin at the pathetic looking man mountain.

"Men and their football," said Rosalie derisively, "now be quiet, it'll only be quick."

She turned to Edward.

"Now I don't know you. I only know of you. And what I know, I don't like. What I do know is that you went to high school with Bella, and although she won't say it, you have something over her, something from then is affecting her now. And that wasn't happening before you arrived. So let's get something straight; if you don't anything to hurt Bella in any way, shape or form, I'll tear your balls off. Do we understand each other?"

Edward breathed out slightly, his eyes wide.

Emmett was violently nodding his head, suggesting that Edward agree, and quickly.

"I think," Edward began, "you should discover the full story before you make idle threats, Ms. Hale. I think you might have the wrong end of the stick, so to speak."

Edward continued. "I don't know you either, and I don't know anyone in this town so I don't want to be making enemies on my first day here because your boyfriend seems like a good guy, and Bella obviously thinks a lot of you, but don't be threatening me. Period. Especially if it's completely unwarranted. Tell Bella I've called a cab and I'll be waiting outside. Nice meeting you both and I guess I'll see you at preseason training Emmett."

With that, Edward walked out.

Bella slipped into a pair of tight black jeans, and red halter top with a white, belt-up coat over the top. She admired her creation before making her way downstairs.

"Where's Edward?"

"He's waiting for you outside," Rosalie said shortly, from where she was sitting in silence on the couch.

"Ahhhh... okay, well I guess I'll see you later then. Bye Emmett!" she called as she walked out the door.

Edward was sitting on the stairs, using his phone.

"Wanted some fresh air, did you?" Bella asked, as she walked down to the cab that was already waiting.

"Something along those lines," Edward replied in a dark tone, not looking up from his phone.

"You didn't fight with Emmett already, did you?" groaned Bella.

Edward's expression got even darker.

"Why does everyone automatically assume anything that happens is my fault?" he asked angrily, as he held the door open.

"So what did happen then?"

"Should probably ask Rosalie. Don't want to be accused of giving a biased account or anything," Edward replied as he followed her into the rear seat of the cab.

"I can't be doing with driving around in cabs for the next two weeks until my stuff arrives," grumbled Edward, as the cab cruised along 97th Street Traverse Road through Central Park, past the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, and south down Park Avenue into the heart of the Upper East Side.

They stopped at Prudential Douglas Elliman Real Estate in Madison Avenue half an hour after departing for Rosalie's townhouse in the Upper West Side.

This was at Bella's suggestion, who had asked Edward what he was looking to spend, to which he had answered "as much as possible".

They stepped inside the offices, and were met by a receptionist who gave Edward a toothy smile, and ignored Bella completely.

"Good morning sir, how can I help you?"

"Hi," Edward said, "I'm a professional footballer who's looking to spend a bucket load of money."

He had a real estate agent at his arm in a second.

Edward was standing in his future apartment. He'd never been more sure of anything in his life. It was a beautiful location, on the corner of 5th Avenue and West 59th Street, just across the street from Central Park, over which it had the most magnificent views.

The apartment itself was large, completely open plan, the entire downstairs being entirely one room apart from the outside decking and pool area. Yes, his penthouse suite had a pool on a decking, the entire area of which had a retractable glass window on the outside of the building that could be remotely raised or removed to make the decking indoor or outdoor.

The apartment itself was 65 feet long from the front door, not including the private lobby that the elevator that needed special code to get to his floor arrived at, and spanned 165 feet in width. The kitchen was on the left as you walked in, taking up the area between the pool and decking, and the near wall.

What sold Edward on the apartment though, at least from the downstairs perspective, was the window. A massive pane of glass, apparently worth $300,000 in its own right, covered 90 feet of the front of the apartment, and continued around the corner to take up another 30 feet of the right hand side wall as you walked through the front doors. A feature window didn't even cover it, more like a transparent football field.

Up the staircase in the right hand side back corner, this was a circular affair, entirely of wood, which was in fitting with the style of the apartment, up to the second floor.

The second floor was not quite as long or wide as the first, because it had been cut away from the right and front wall, leaving a gap of about 6 feet between the walls and the walkway overhead, allowing the view out the front window to be fully appreciated.

There were two upstairs bedrooms, naturally each with massive ensuites and walk in wardrobes. There was a laundry and finally a spacious study, which lay directly above the pool area, and had another great view over downtown New York.

"I'll pay whatever the asking price is," Edward announced to the agent, who was dressed immaculately.

Bella was still staring open mouthed at the beautiful apartment, lost for words.

"Well sir, there have been a number of expressions of interest, it's a very sought after residence, you have to understand."

"I'm prepared to top whatever else has been offered."

They were standing on the second floor, Bella looking out over central park as the two men discussed the terms.

"Well sir, the developer has an asking price of $15,000,000. However, he has also set a reserved upper limit of $17,500,000 which if sir is prepared to meet, the developer would sell immediately."

"I'll do it. I assume I am able to make the necessary financial transactions with at your offices?"

"Once I check with Mr. Wilson, the owner/developer of the property that everything is to his satisfaction, the issue of payment will be dealt with, and the paperwork can be submitted."

"Is there any way in New York of waiving the compulsory one month waiting period for settlement?" Edward asked, as he signed a form, and they headed to the elevator.

"I'm afraid not, there are strict tenancy rules in New York, which are enforced. I'm afraid you will be forced to wait until the government returns the papers before you can reside in your purchase. You are however welcome to visit with the developers permission, of course."

"Damn."

"Well looks like I'll be holed up in a hotel for the next four or five weeks," Edward said, as he and Bella stood in Madison Avenue.

The agent had driven them back to the agency, where Edward had filled out the required forms, and committed to paying a greater sum than she was sure the total value of the houses in her street in Forks had been worth.

"I texted Rosalie earlier," Bella said, "when he said you would have to wait, and asked if you could stay at her place,"

Edward paused slightly. He wondered how Rosalie really felt about having him staying with them, given their early confrontation

"I mean you don't have to," she rushed, "if you would prefer the service and luxury of a hotel it's completely your choice. It's just an offer,"

"No, no, I'd love to," Edward responded, surprising himself. Normally he would have taken the hotel any day of the week, but some company and the chance to get to know one of his teammates was too good to refuse. And Bella would be there, he added as an afterthought.

"Means we will be able to make career and image decisions on the spot," Bella said, smiling.

She wished she could honestly say that was the only reason she wanted him there, but she was intrigued by him. There was still something about him that drew her in, but she was sure she wasn't the only girl sailing in that boat.

Nonetheless, Bella smiled happily as the two of them got into yet another cab, to make the trip back to Rosalie's house on the other side of town.

**Now last time I asked something, I got a great response, but then I realised it sounded like I was desperately pleading for reviews. I was actually genuinely more interested in why some stories have lots of reviews despite reading like the back of a cereal box. It's more a give your opinion if you've got one than a pump up my tyres exercise. But thank you anyway, they were all much appreciated, even if I did feel like I was fishing for compliments when I reread it. **


	8. Chapter 8

**First off, a few excuses. I have literally been snowed under with assignments and school work, and then I literally went to the snow! A week and a half of skiing was great, but now I'm back, and writing again. Hope you enjoy it, and as always, please read and review.**

Bella unlocked the front door to find Emmett coming the other way.

"Off to the gym Em?" she enquired, looking at his trainers, along with the hoodie and tracksuit pants.

"For sure. You ask me that every day when I get my LSU gear on and the answers always the same. Off to the Dodge to get huge," Emmett chuckled.

"Huger, I think you mean," Bella replied.

"The Dodge?" Edward asked, his interest piqued. He needed to find somewhere to keep fit in the offseason.

"Yeah, its two blocks north on the Columbia University campus. Best gym this side of Manhattan. You can roll with if you want man, I'm in no hurry, and a gym buddy would be good," Emmett offered, and Edward nodded.

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that, but I think Bella wanted to do some PR stuff, setting up interviews and the like, didn't you?" he asked, but Bella shook her head.

"You boys go and have some male bonding time," she laughed, "I'm going to find someone to set me up a snazzy website with my phone number on it, so we can get the ball rolling. And I doubt I'll have to 'do PR stuff' as you so eloquently put it. You're hot property in this town, I have a feeling they might come looking for us."

"That's settled then little man, you're coming to pump iron with me," Emmett said, slapping him manfully on the back, making Edward stumble a pace.

* * *

><p>Edward went to change, rifling through his bags until he found his favourite Florida Gators blue and orange basketball shorts, and a plain black singlet. He pulled his Nike runners on, and stepped out into the hallway.<p>

"My god, they're blinding!" shouted Emmett, laughing at Edward's shoes as he grinned sheepishly.

His Nike trainers were a pair he'd designed on the internet, and were an offensive combination of orange, blue and pink, with a yellow sole. Bella was also waiting for him, but she was blushing again.

"Ah Edward," she mumbled, "Have you had your phone off?"

"Yeah, why? People keep calling me," he complained.

"Oh the pitfalls of being popular," Emmett swooned, as Edward scowled at him.

"Yeah, those 'people' as you put it, are reporters and magazine editors, along with TV programs that want to interview you. We want to talk to those guys."

"That's what you're here for, so I don't have to do that stuff," Edward responded. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and handed it to her. "You can call whomever you want, just make sure they all know to call you next time. I'm sick of having my phone bombarded."

"I'll have a look a few endorsements as well," she said speculatively, and looked him over. "Maybe I'll call Nike, see whether they're looking for any more football reps, it doesn't look half bad on you. Minus the hideous shoes, of course,"

Now it was Edward's turn to have his cheeks colour slightly.

* * *

><p>It was a two and half mile run to the gym, and Edward kept pace with Emmett, who was timing himself. He aimed to run the distance in around twelve and a half minutes, but as he said before they began, traffic was a variable, as was what Rosalie had cooked him for his previous meal.<p>

They arrived in just under thirteen minutes, and Emmett, with his 270 pound, 6 foot 5 inch frame, was hunched over panting as they stopped outside the front of the building that housed the gymnasium.

On the street, college students were staring and pointing at the two of them. A couple shouted out Edward's name, and he waved at the group as they passed by on the other side of the road.

A couple of girls crossed the street, and held out lecture note books, asking Edward to sign them, which he duly did, smiling as they giggled to themselves.

"Looks like you're not short of fans," Emmett chuckled, as he caught his breath.

"Yes but one of those girls thought I played basketball," he replied, as they made their way inside.

* * *

><p>"I've brought a guest along today, Brad," Emmett announced to the man behind the desk at the gym's reception.<p>

"I see he has as little taste in universities as you do, my friend," the man named Brad said with a grin. "Do you want to sign up with a real university, like Emmett, or continue to associate with second class establishments like those in the south?"

"Oh _friend_," Edward responded with a similarly sarcastic smile "how many national championship banners does your football team have hanging on its wall? Could it possibly be less than four?"

"Columbia is about more than athletics," he replied sheepishly, "we have a proud academic record of being one of the top schools in the nation as well, and we are an Ivy League school,"

"Yeah well, a 'proud academic record' doesn't get you win you national titles. I guess your program needs all the help it can get, where do I sign for a gym membership?" Edward grinned.

* * *

><p>Bella was spread out over Rosalie's kitchen table with her laptop and pages and pages of Edward's achievements and records, along with contact numbers and information for companies and their marketing divisions, while the table's owner was lying luxuriously on her couch, browsing pictures of clothing.<p>

"You know, I could ditch my agent, and you could manage me," Rosalie speculated from her position of comfort.

"Don't you dare," Bella responded, sifting through papers, "I'm not even qualified to be Edward's agent, I don't know why the hell they have given me that job as well. If you got me to do it, you'd spend your entire time modelling the latest line from Kmart."

"How is Edward? I mean to work with," Rosalie added.

"He's fine, I mean, I don't know what happened after he left high school but from what I heard he turned into an absolute nightmare. I met someone who went to Florida with him, and they said he was just a stereotypical football captain, a jerk to everyone, used girls like tissues, arrogant as all get out. Had problems with a couple of police incidents, but nothing came of them."

"Got drafted number one, lots more people telling him how good he was, head got bigger, and then he found out that someone who is paying him the highest rookie wage of all time isn't prepared to put up with him acting the fool. I can't imagine what his agent went through last year,"

"How is he with you though?" Rosalie asked, not missing that Bella had completely dodged the question.

She paused.

"He's fine. Honestly, he's casual, pretty quiet, and willing to work," she replied.

"That's all?"

"Should there be anything else? I know you had a little argument today, he sounded like he wasn't pleased with something you accused him of," Bella said, as she tapped away on her laptop.

Rosalie frowned. "I asked him about your high school days together. He didn't want to say much. Said that was your story to tell if you wanted. He made it sound like there was certainly more to tell than you let on, anyway,"

"I said I didn't really want to talk about it," Bella replied firmly.

"Bells, I'm your best friend, I'm not judging. But if he's living under my roof and you two have history, I'd like to know. I honestly don't care whether you killed his sister or something, I just don't want this unresolved tension for two weeks."

Bella sighed. "I guess I owe you this much, since I am living in your house. I was conducting what one might describe as an affair with Edward; I was his tutor in senior year. He invited me to our senior prom, but I was doing a magazine piece for one of the movies I was in the year before and I hadn't told him. I panicked on the night, bailed on him, and went with someone else, thinking he wouldn't show, but he did."

"That sounds all very high school and a tad melodramatic," Rosalie said. "So that's the reason that you two don't get on? You bailed on him at his high school prom?"

"Not the only reason, no, I followed him home to apologise. I'd always known he'd lived in project housing, because his family was poor, but he lived in virtual slums. Druggies everywhere, violence and filth. I've never been anywhere quite as shocking as that block of flats. Anyway, I go to his apartment, to find his mother drunk out of her mind, screaming, while his step father tried to beat the living daylights out of him."

"That's a bit more serious."

"Yeah, it is. He wouldn't talk to me at all afterwards, he felt betrayed. I was meant to be the only one who didn't care about where he was from. But I noticed the little bruises and cuts on his body even though he avoided me, so I guess he was being beaten pretty badly as a kid."

"Did you tell anyone?" Rosalie asked, shock evident on her face.

"How could I? You can't imagine what his reaction would have been if I'd so much as mentioned what I'd seen to child services,"

"Why didn't he do anything about it?" Rosalie asked.

"Guess he figured that once he was done with school, he could leave his parents grasp forever. Wasn't worth being taken into Children's Bureau for only a few months, being pulled out of school and trying to start over somewhere else."

"Why didn't he go when he was like fifteen or something?" Rosalie asked incredulously.

"He went to one of the worst schools in the country, not just Washington. When he came to Forks High, he knew virtually nothing, despite being highly intelligent. I doubt he was even aware such an organisation even existed."

There was silence.

"Wow... I had him pegged wrong. I imagined he was a spoilt brat growing up. Still, it doesn't excuse three years of being an arrogant toerag."

"I know, but still. I hope getting fired was the wakeup call he needed. Shocked him out of his downward spiral. I think he's different now, he's like the person he was when I tutored him, smart and confident, but also able to laugh."

"You aren't going to think of him like you did when you were tutoring him, are you?" Rosalie asked.

Bella had been afraid of this question. Sure, she was attracted to Edward. Which female wasn't? He was tall, attractive to the point where she'd call him angelically beautiful, with his piercing green eyes, the sex-hair that she just wanted to run her fingers through, a body that had put on serious bulk since its high school days and a lithe grace that made her weak at the knees.

But she didn't think she actually wanted him in a manner other than physically. Sure he had a silver tongue to go with that velvet voice, and quiet confidence that made her tremble sometimes, but her heart wasn't convinced. And her head, screaming at her that she was his agent and publicist, and that she would be ruining a career for someone who had a rather large grudge against her, won out.

"No, I don't like Edward Cullen. He's nothing more than my employer," Bella said.

"And a rather good piece of eye candy," Rosalie added with a wink.

"I wouldn't know, I'm strictly professional," Bella replied, her voice strained slightly.

"Bullshit," Rosalie called straight away, "I may love Emmett with all my soul, but I can't help but notice _that_ when it walks into the room. I think part of the reason I was so angry at him was because he was the first guy I've seen since I met Emmett that I couldn't dismiss out of hand. Seriously Bella, if you can get that boy out there to be seen, talk about a product that will sell itself,"

Bella could only attempt to cover her blush.

* * *

><p>Edward and Emmett were finishing up their workouts in the weights room, and were out on the machines just warming down, and chatting amicably. The current topic of conversation was their team for that season.<p>

Edward was trying to get some insight into what kind of offensive line he'd be working with, but Emmett was coy, speaking only in generalizations. It was hardly filling Edward with confidence. He'd heard their quarterback this year had suffered two concussions during the season, and he wasn't even a scrambler. It didn't bode well.

Their friendly conversation was interrupted by a man on the treadmill next to Emmett who wanted to discuss the season just gone. He looked to be in his late sixties, and Emmett smiled indulgently at him as he gave the mammoth man advice.

"I think you should blitz more," he declared, as Edward smiled. He was used to this sort of thing in Seattle. Everyone had an opinion, that wouldn't go away, especially if they saw someone from the team. In Seattle, he'd usually been short tempered with them, impolite one might even say, and told them to get lost, but he was trying to start afresh. Act in line with the Giants image as connected with their fans.

Edward concentrated on watching the scratch basketball game that was going on in the blue synthetic court two floors below, which the gym looked down upon from all sides. He was doing this to attempt to block out the woman on his right who was blatantly staring at him.

"But we are the team who utilizes the blitz more than anyone else in the league," Emmett said gently to the man, but he shook his head violently.

"More blitzing!" he declared emphatically. "Make use of that combination of size and speed boy," he said as he tapped Emmett's bicep.

"Any word on the new quarterback, this Cullen fellow? Does he look like he'll do the job?"

Edward's ears pricked up, and Emmett grinned.

"I could tell you, or you could ask him yourself. He's right here," he said gesturing to Edward.

He took the opportunity to move to the treadmill on the other side of the old man. He held out his hand, and the man looked him over while shaking it.

"Sorry son, the eyes aren't what they used to be. The names Max, Max Phillips, I've been to every Giants home game since 1967, round four against New Orleans when Bobby Crespino caught an 11 yard touchdown pass from Fran Tarkenton in the final quarter to win the game for us. I was 25, and we had the worst defence, but an offence like you wouldn't believe. A real shootout offence, not like today. Now it's all boys like this one" he said, gesturing towards Emmett, "making sure we don't get blown out by teams and doing his best to keep us in games. It's been years since we've had a real offence like 1967," he said gloomily.

"Well, I can't guarantee anything," Edward said to him, as they jogged, "but I promise that I'll do my utmost to bring some excitement to go with the new stadium,"

Emmett's face fell. "Oh you didn't mention New Meadowlands," he groaned.

"Now I really don't see why this had to happen," began Max, one hand gesturing as he went, speaking not to Edward, but loudly enough for all in the vicinity to hear. "The old Giants stadium was good enough for nearly 35 years. I saw some classic games there, some absolute beauties, I remember the first game in 1976. Although if I'd had my way, and the board had listened to my letters, we never would have left Yankee Stadium. Now there was a truly classic ground. Harks back to a better era when we still played in the 'eastern' conference, not the silly 'NFC' business..."

"Ah, Max, we really have to go now, you know, get ready for the new season, but I'm sure we'll see you around, tomorrow maybe," Emmett interrupted, pulling Edward away.

But the old man was off now, and was reminiscing to the lady, who had been checking out Edward, about the golden years.

**Good news and bad news. Good news first? I have finished all my assignments, and hopefully another chapter will be forthcoming very soon. Bad news? I have exams in a few weeks, and that's going to eat into any writing time I have. I also get shocking writers block, and blow hot and cold on stories in the space of about five minutes. It makes it very hard to get anything done. If you've got any hints, it would definitely be appreciated**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here we go again... as always, please read and leave me a review at the end!**

* * *

><p>"He's a great old bloke, absolutely devoted to the team," panted Emmett, as they pulled up outside Rosalie's house, "but god, start that man on a pet topic and it can go for hours. Like literally hours,"<p>

"I don't doubt it," grinned Edward, as they entered through the front door.

The sight that greeted them was one of chaos. Bella had stacked papers several stories high across the desk, and was busily typing on her keyboard, while talking into her mobile.

Edward had to hold back laughter, but Emmett didn't even bother, only waiting until Bella had finally hung up the phone.

"It looks like something exploded in here squirt," he said, still chuckling.

"Well, this explosion is now completed, I have a calendar of everywhere Edward is going to be for the next month or so."

"Oooh let me see," Emmett said, grabbing the laptop, before laughing mockingly. "What are you trying to market him as, the first woman to play in the NFL? Why is he doing fashion shoots?"

Edward looked daggers at Bella, who had the nerve to shrug. "The Giants want to turn you into a sex-symbol, not just a superstar. You're going to be the NFL equivalent of David Beckham, or so they hope. Women are apparently the untapped market, and they're looking to move on it."

"Please no, Bella. You can't imagine the level of abuse I will cop for this," Edward whined.

"Team orders, Edward, you signed the contract. Should have read it a bit more carefully now, shouldn't you?"

Emmett had collapsed laughing by this point.

* * *

><p>"So just how bad is it?" Edward groaned, sitting down opposite Bella at the kitchen table.<p>

"Well," Emmett began, "you don't have shortage of admirers, or at least, people who want to hear your story. Wow, you'd think no one had ever interviewed you before, look at this list!"

"They haven't," Edward said tiredly

"What do you mean, 'they haven't'? You saying you've never been interviewed before?" Emmett asked incredulously.

"Nope, he hasn't, not by proper media outlets, anyway. So yes, there are a few on the list," Bella said, staring pointedly at Edward, as if to convey the point that he'd brought it upon himself.

"Come on, so what's on there?" Edward asked, resting his chin on his arm.

"Well," Emmett began, "it's starts off pretty standard, you know, you've got Sports Illustrated for this week's edition, ESPN Magazine for the issue that is out in two weeks, Pro Football Weekly want a couple of quotes for their piece on your move."

"That seems okay," Edward said, looking up.

"Yeah, but that's the sports magazines. You haven't even started," Emmett said gleefully, launching into the rest of the list.

"Over the next few weeks you have; Esquire interview and photo shoot, GQ interview and photo shoot, Men's Vogue interview and photo shoot."

"Surely they don't all want to have me in their issues at the same time?" Edward said incredulously.

"No, at least half will hold the articles over, and wait until you either start preseason, or fuck up massively. Either or," Bella said, while Edward's mood turned sour once more.

"So I'm supposed to give them a civilised interview, which will then be converted into an 'I hate Edward Cullen' rant if anything goes wrong?"

"So just make sure nothing does go wrong," Bella whispered sweetly.

"These sound like the ones you're really going to be looking forward to," Emmett said, merrily.

"Alright, lay the pain on me," Edward said.

"Syndicated Vogue article from the Men's Vogue edition," and Edward shrugged.

"Cosmopolitan photo shoot," Emmett grinned, while Edward winced.

"Marie Claire photo shoot and interview." Edward ducked to the level of the table.

"But here's the real kicker. A triple blow to the gut, you are doing; Teen Vogue, Cosmogirl and Seventeen," he cackled almost evilly as Edward ducked his head, his face hidden.

"I am a football player, not a 16 year old pop star," he said angrily, as Bella shrugged. "And don't feed me that bullshit about it being in my contract, this was your choice, you're trying to turn me into Lindsay Lohan,"

* * *

><p>He was breathing heavily, and stood up suddenly. "I'm going for a walk," he announced.<p>

"Edward wait," Bella pleaded, "just at least listen to the rest of what I have to say."

He turned around, and stared at her, his glare informing her that she had better come up with something good, and quickly.

"I contacted some companies, or their marketing divisions at least. You would be surprised how many contacted your agent at some point last year, asking about having you do an ad campaign."

"Oh yeah, such as?"

"Well, Nike and Reebok, for example. They both said today that they would like to talk to you about joining their endorsement team. I told Reebok we'd get back to them, Nike are seeing us day after tomorrow,"

Edward nodded. That was better. More in line with his image, the one he wanted, anyway.

"Also, the Volkswagen Group expressed a serious interest in you last year, and apparently the offer is still there. They are looking for a high profile US male sports star to endorse their products,"

Edward shook his head. "I like fast cars, not Volkswagen's Bella. I drive Ferrari's, Lamborghini's, that kind of thing."

"Volkswagen owns Lamborghini, Edward. They also own Audi, Bugatti, Bentley and half of Porsche. They are a massive company, with a large range of high end performance vehicles that they think you would be perfect to advertise for them, or at least that's what they said."

Edward nodded. "Alright, that sounds a bit more like it."

"Now it's the fashion labels," Bella continued, reading of a piece of paper.

"Oh no, I knew there had to be a downside," Edward replied, anger returning, "I'm not a fucking athlete, I don't model clothes, no sports star does,"

"Wrong; plenty of sports stars do, they just don't get offers like you do. We've got a whole list of famous fashion brands looking for a marketable US sports star to put on their billboards. You might have seen the ones with David Beckham or Cristiano Ronaldo on them for Giorgio Armani? Yeah, they're contracts run out this year, and they don't want another foreign athlete who plays a sport people don't care about in this country."

"You're getting an offer from Giorgio Armani!"

* * *

><p>Rosalie had just walked through the door, and had promptly dropped her designer handbag.<p>

"Yep," Bella said, "and he's also got enquiries from Calvin Klein, again about underwear modelling and from Hugo Boss about perfume adverts. And the suits, wow, Armani, Hugo Boss again, Ralph Lauren and even smaller brands like Ermenegildo Zegna and Oxxford expressed interest in the past year about doing campaigns with you. I still can't believe your agent didn't even mention any of it to you,"

Rosalie's mouth was wide open.

"Oh, and I forgot Louis Vuitton were interested to see how you'd look with one of their watches on. I guess you never got that either? Yeah, don't think your agent passed along the information or the gift,"

"Wow," was all Edward could say.

They were sitting over dinner that evening, all four of them, eating the meal that Rosalie had prepared. She was not only a successful model, but also a fine cook, a legacy she'd inherited from her mother, who was a chef back in her hometown of Los Angeles.

In the middle of the table was a piece of paper with a list of potential endorsements for Edward, and they were heatedly discussing them. They had universally agreed on Nike, and whichever brand the Volkswagen group decided he should be part of the campaign for from their top performance brands, but the rest were up for heated debate.

Rosalie, being the fashion expert, had a personal opinion on each of them that she expressed freely. Emmett suggested that Edward should do Calvin Klein, because Emmett thought they were comfortable, but Rosalie nearly overturned the table, so violent was her objection.

"You have an offer from Giorgio Armani, and you are prepared to settle for a second rate boutique like Calvin Klein! Are you completely mentally dysfunctional!" she shouted at her boyfriend, who even though he occupied half the table to himself, cowered under the attack.

"He doesn't have any offers," Bella interjected calmly, "he has expressions of interest, quite different,"

"Don't tell me about my own job, missy," Rosalie said, turning on Bella, "if they are expressing interest, they want him. An offer is a formality,"

"Rosalie," Edward said, trying to calm the intense female down slightly, "some of these are expressions of interest that came up to 12 months ago. They could have already signed replacements when I didn't respond. I assume most of them have,"

"Fashion contracts for things like this are a long term proposition in the men's area. You get them for years," Rosalie said, "they'll have been looking a year in advance, so it's probable that they haven't found a replacement, if the trend seems to be towards US male athletes. Tom Brady is the only one who comes even within a hundred miles of having what you have Edward, I can't imagine they've been filled,"

"It's true," Bella said, "the ones I contacted today are still interested, Edward. You just need to choose,"

"He's doing Armani underwear, Hugo Boss perfume and the Louis Vetton watches," Rosalie announced, grabbing a pen and circling those three,"

Bella looked at Edward, who shrugged with a smile. "She's the expert, may as well take her advice."

"Damn straight. You'll look good in the Armani underwear, and Hugo Boss and Louis Vetton run classic ad campaigns, never seen a flop. It's just what to do about that suit contract. You see, you could double up with the Hugo Boss, or run with Ralph Lauren, but they're both going to clash with your other areas, they're likely to kick up a fuss about you advertising for their rival companies, whereas the areas of underwear, perfume and watches are varied enough that it should be ok. But another clothing line, I'm not so sure."

"So what are your suggestions then Rosalie," grinned Edward, amused by the sight of the woman looking so unusually pensive and in such deep thought.

"Well Ermenegildo Zegna is a good brand. Adrien Brody, you know the actor?"

"Yes, good actor, I saw _The Pianist_ when I was in school," Edward replied

"Yeah, he modelled their 2003 line. They are famous enough to be big, but boutique enough to retain some exotic and distinctly foreign flavour."

"That sounds like a perfect way to round out his endorsement portfolio," Bella said, nodding approvingly.

"Geez, so what's that, six or seven ad campaigns you've just committed to, Ed?" Emmett whistled, "On top of about fifteen interviews and photo shoots. That's now until preseason booked, I wouldn't be surprised if you turned up on day one of practice with a pot belly from not having any time to train,"

"He better not," Rosalie said forcefully, "I'd suggest you do some crunches or curls at the gym, and lots of them. Abs are a man's best asset when he's modelling, along with his eyes. Your eyes are great, perfect for the job, but what are his abs like Emmett?"

Emmett looked stunned at the very serious question from his girlfriend.

"I... uhh wouldn't know to be honest," Emmett mumbled, trying not to look Edward in the eye, who was presently staring at the painting on the wall he'd never truly appreciated before.

"Oh come on you two, how about you Bella, what are Edward's abs like? It's a legitimately important question when it comes to modelling, and you have firsthand experience with them,"

Bella spluttered into her glass, and came up coughing, her cheeks the approximate colour of beetroot.

"None of you? God you bunch of prudes, come here Edward!"

Rosalie promptly grabbed the front of the shirt he was wearing, and hoicked it up, and examined his midriff.

"Oh they'll do very nicely," she smiled, "very nicely indeed. You'll put that Portuguese man-whore Ronaldo to shame."

* * *

><p>"So what are we doing tonight?" Rosalie asked, as soon as the last person to finish eating had put their knife and fork down.<p>

"I don't know Rosalie, what are we doing?" Bella replied, as Edward and Emmett cleared the dishes off the table.

"Come on, Bella, it's Edward's first night in the best city in the world, let's take him out on the town," Rosalie moaned, while Bella rolled her eyes.

"You just want another excuse to go out," Bella replied, but Rosalie knew she'd won.

"Come on," she said excitedly, grabbing Bella's hand, "let's go and get ready!"

"I'm sorry man," apologised Emmett, "I hope you weren't looking forward to a quiet night in playing board games or anything. If you really want to bail out, I'll tell Rosalie, you probably can't wait to hit the hay,"

"Nah, don't worry about it," Edward replied, as he packed the dishwasher, "it'll be good to unwind a little after the week I've had, you know, just kick back for an evening, relax a tiny bit,"

"I don't think you've ever been clubbing with Rosalie before then," Emmett commented, drying his hands, "you don't to do much kicking back if she has anything to do with it,"

"Likes to party hard huh? Well, I guess if she wears me out, I can just cab home, no biggie."

"You say that now," Emmett chortled.

* * *

><p>An hour and a half later they were ready. Well, Emmett and Edward had been ready for an hour, but the women, after Rosalie had announced that they needed to dress up, smart but casual, had disappeared.<p>

Edward had taken a quick shower after Emmett had finished in the downstairs bathroom, and opted for a safe combination of a fitted white dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled casually over his forearms, skinny black jeans and his black Gucci dress shoes.

Emmett, with whom he had spent the previous hour lying on the couches watching MTV while discussing music tastes, was wearing white jeans, with white leather shoes and a long sleeved black t shirt which had all the buttons undone down the front all the way down to his sternum.

Then the girls came down the stairs, and in turn Emmett and Edward had to stop themselves from staring. Rosalie was wearing one of _those_ little red dresses, and Bella followed up with an equally small, slim fitting black one, neither of which was leaving much to the imagination.

"Wow, you two look awesome!" Emmett exclaimed, as he jumped up off the couch, "but where are we going that you two need to be displaying so much of your, ahhh, assets?"

Bella blushed, looking even more uncomfortable than she already had, Edward noticed, but Rosalie was unfazed.

"It's the biggest night of the week at 1OAK tonight, and I want in. I've heard it's amazing, and someone I know who works there has just texted me saying the place is packed to the gunnels with A-listers, everyone is there tonight and the door is tighter than...,"

"...My freshman Science teacher, Ms. Brackenburg's..." Emmett interjected, but not before Rosalie could cut him off.

"Emmett! Please show some restraint, anyway, the point is, it's going to be hard to get in tonight, no matter who you are, so showing a little bit of skin can go a long way,"

Emmett shrugged, but it wasn't difficult to see he wasn't delighted with the situation. However, he knew better than to say anything more.

"So when is the cab arriving then?" Bella enquired.

"We're not getting a cab, silly Bella, you don't pull up in front of 1OAK in a cab, don't worry, the limousine should arrive any minute. Ahh," she exclaimed as the doorbell rang, "that be it now. Let's go."

They walked down the hall, and Edward leaned over to Bella.

"You look amazing in that dress," he whispered in her ear.

She blushed crimson, but Edward could see straight away that she was a little less nervous.

* * *

><p>The limo trip took 45 minutes, but they were comfortable, and the champagne was flowing so the time flew by quickly. By the time they pulled up out the front of the club, it was 12.30, and the street was packed.<p>

"Oh my god," said Rosalie, peering out the window, "I've never seen so many people queuing for one venue,"

The driver opened the door, and the light and noise of the street assaulted them.

"Sorry ladies, even gorgeous girls such as yourselves have to wait in line tonight I'm afraid, it's crazy."

The doorman was speaking to Bella and Rosalie, who had exited first.

"Oh, Mr. McCarty, I'm sorry didn't see you there, I'm sure there's room at the front of the line, and oh! Mr. Cullen, didn't see you either, my apologies, first night out in New York, you've come to the right place, go right on through, don't worry about the line," he said, as Edward was the final one in the foursome to exit the limousine.

"Doormen are such bastards," Rosalie said huffily, as they walked through.

"Edward! Edward! Over here!"

Edward's head flicked around, and he realised that there were reporters hanging over the ropes with cameras and microphones.

He felt and hand on his back, guiding him over.

"Oh come on Bella, we're going out, this is not work time," he moaned.

"Its work time, all the time," Bella insisted, pushing him towards the waiting hoard.

"Edward, Edward, is this your girlfriend?" demanded a man who shoved a microphone in his face.

"No," said Edward forcefully, "this is my current agent and publicist. If any of you ever want an actual interview you'll have to get past this hardass,"

"I'm glad you've been paying attention to the firmness of my rear," Bella said quietly, which threw Edward slightly, because then he really did start paying attention to it.

"Edward, you arrived with Emmett McCarty; is the team trying to control your partying ways?"

"No, no, New York has shown faith in me, and I'm determined to repay it. No I'm staying with Emmett's girlfriend Rosalie who is also kindly putting up Bella here, because I don't have settlement on the apartment I bought today for another month,"

"How would you respond to suggestions your overrated and arrogant?"

"I'm just going to try and go out on the field and do my best for my new team. As for arrogance, well, I'm not going to say I was what one would look for in a franchise quarterback when I was in Seattle, and I deeply regret that. I'm just going to try to take it one step at a time, and see if I can play some good football first, and more importantly help the team get wins,"

"Alright, thank you very much, we don't have any time for more questions," Bella interjected, as more questions were shouted at Edward, but he simply smiled for the cameras, which flashed furiously, before turning away and following Emmett and Rosalie into the club.

1OAK, as Rosalie's friend had suggested, was packed to its expensive, pretentiously artistic rafters with actors, actresses, musicians, models and socialites. Edward walked up to pay both their entry fees and the man reached out to take his money without looking, and then looked up.

"Oh, Edward Cullen, go right on through," he said, gesturing to the doors. He did so, and Bella tried to follow, but the man called out to her.

"Ah, she's with me," Edward said forcefully, putting his arm around her waist,"

"I do apologise, enjoy your evening."

* * *

><p>Edward made sure he removed his arm as soon as they were past the second set of doors. No need to stir up trouble.<p>

Lindsay Lohan, Rihanna, Jay Z, Amare Stoudemire, Leighton Meister, Kanye West, Jennifer Aniston, just to name a few of the faces that they saw as they walked towards the table that Emmett and Rosalie had purchased.

"I've never gotten in for free to any New York club that Rosalie has taken us to, let alone one like this," Bella half shouted over the music.

"Benefits of being known, or at least having your face on the front page of the paper today," Edward said.

It was indeed true, the New York Post, the New York Daily News and even The New York Times had run with various pieces on the front cover about his switch to the Giants in their afternoon reprints.

A few famous faces shook Edward's hand, or stopped for a chat about the move, wishing him well. Some Edward had met before, most he hadn't, but all were supportive.

"Well they're all rooting for you," Bella said as they continued towards their private table.

"After having my ass kissed that much, I need a drink," Edward announced when they arrived at the table, before even sitting down, "what do people want?"

They each gave him their orders, and he made his way over to the bar. One of the bartenders was on hand immediately to serve him, ignoring people who'd been there before him, but Edward waved the man away to those who had already been waiting.

He received an appreciative nod from the group, when someone slid into the space next to him, and rested against the bar.

* * *

><p>"So you're the infamous Edward Cullen," said the woman who'd just taken up the vacated space.<p>

It was anything but unheard of for women to try and pick Edward up in clubs and bars, so he turned around, the speech about being out with friends already forming in his mind.

It disappeared the moment he turned around to find himself face to face with Tanya Denali. In a green halter neck dress that was cut down to her belly button, and had a piece of fabric about two inches wide around her waist. The two straps on either side of her neck barely covered her chest, and she didn't seem to have a single self-conscious bone in her body.

Tanya Denali was a Hollywood actress, a queen of tinsel town, who specialised in playing the hot chick in action movies, or the soppy, swooning girl in romantic comedies.

She was famous for making studios lots of money with films that made critics cringe. And now she was standing at the bar, leaning in very close to Edward.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Edward replied, taking the opportunity to back away slightly on the pretence that he was going to shake her hand.

Instead she grabbed him around the neck, and slowly kissed him on both cheeks.

"So how are you enjoying your first day in New York, beautiful?" she asked, her hand idly running over his back in little circles, which were slowly getting lower and lower.

"Ah, it's been busy," replied Edward distractedly, shifting uncomfortably as she groped his backside.

"So you've come here with your girlfriend to unwind?" she asked, leaning in close.

"My girlfriend?" Edward asked, puzzled.

"That girl you had your arm around when you came in, she's not your girlfriend? Just find her tonight did you? I'm sure I can make you a much better offer then," she whispered in his ear.

"No, no, she's my agent, not my girlfriend or some girl I just picked up. I'm just here with some friends, enjoying my first night out in NYC,"

* * *

><p>That was a truth he wished he hadn't told as soon as it was out of his mouth.<p>

"Well, I can help you enjoy it a whole lot more," she whispered into his ear once more, before biting his earlobe, and running her hands down the front of his jeans.

"I'm really sorry Ms. Denali, but I'm here with my friends, and I've got their drinks, so I should get back to them," he muttered, as she continued to put her hands in uncomfortable places.

"That's a shame, Edward, but I see you are here to celebrate with your friends. Never mind about now, find me at the end of the night and we'll celebrate together, just the two of us, or I'll find you," she announced, and with one last squeeze, she released him, and he fled back to the table.

"You took your time," commented Rosalie, taking her overpriced, oversweet mixer off the tray Edward had been given.

"I was talking to someone at the bar," Edward said, sitting down opposite Emmett and Rosalie, once Bella had shifter around to the other side of the table to make room.

"We noticed," replied Bella, concentrating on her drink.

"So, how do you know Tanya Denali?" Rosalie asked, leaning over.

"I don't. Never met her before today and I feel positively violated for having done so," Edward said, as he drank his Billionaires Margarita, while observing Emmett throw back his Black Velvet like it was water.

"Jeez, she was very handsy for a first time meet; did she sound like she'd been putting them back for a while?" Emmett asked, wiping his lips on the back of his sleeve, much to Rosalie's displeasure.

"Nope, and she wants me to go and find her at the end of the night so we can 'celebrate' my first night in New York, just the two of us," Edward replied.

"So are you going to?" Emmett asked, but before Edward could answer, Rosalie grabbed Bella by the hand, and stood up.

"Come on," she declared forcefully, "let's go dance,"

* * *

><p><strong>Okay so I'm cringing at the amount of hate coming my way about introducing Tanya, but I'm sorry to say she isn't going away particularly soon. Also, how much do you want to live that life? I promise you, it will all happen when I'm rich...<strong>

**I feel I did my duty however, this chapter is almost 5000 words, so a bit of reciprocal love would be good :)**

**Anyway, please take a second to leave me a review; you can't imagine how great they are when I'm trying to motivate myself to keep writing, I legitimately read them all for your thoughts and opinions :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**I just like to thank everyone that's reviewed so far, it's you guys who I feel are cracking the metaphorical whips when I'm writing, forcing me to get something out... that sounds more ungrateful than I intended, but you get the idea... please enjoy, read and review!**

* * *

><p>They stayed out until 4 in the morning, dancing and drinking, until they were all well and truly inebriated. Tanya had accosted Edward anytime he went near the dance floor, and Bella allowed herself to be roped in by a man in a shirt and tie, but wasn't drunk enough to let him put his hands on her without feeling repulsed. She went and waited at their table, drinking slowly and watching the hot, sweaty mass of people swaying to and fro.<p>

In actuality, she was only watching one hot, sweaty mass, and he was quite drunk and allowing himself to be fondled viciously by that blonde actress who dressed like a hooker. She knew it was hurting her, but she couldn't look away.

Finally, Tanya leant in to kiss him, and Bella tried to look away, but couldn't, she found the sight too enthralling. Much to her relief, however, Edward leant away, and kept dancing in his slightly drunken, but still alluring manner.

Tanya looked displeased, and grabbed him by the arm, and whispered in his ear. Then she started to lead him towards the door, her pulling on his arm while he stumbled along behind her. Bella stood up, wondering if she was supposed to do something, whether Edward would want her interfering or not. She stood there pondering the question, but Edward had spotted her.

"Bella!" he called drunkenly, this time dragging Tanya over towards Bella. "Bella! Bella! Tanya said we can go home and have a fun time together, do you want to come and have fun?"

Bella didn't answer, because she and Tanya were too busy staring each other down, and Tanya proceeded to tug forcefully on Edward's amply large arm.

"Come on darling, this is a fun time we can just have together," she said, sneering at Bella, "I doubt your employee is adventurous enough for what I'd have in mind."

"No!" insisted drunk yet cute and endearing Edward, "I want Bella to come! Why can't Bella come?"

"Edward it's fine," Bella sighed, the words hurting as they left her mouth, "you go with Tanya and have fun,"

"Yes gorgeous boy, come with me, like your employee suggests," Tanya said, rubbing herself along his side.

"No!" Edward shouted, pouting. He pulled himself away from Tanya's grasp, and sat down at their table. "If Bella can't come, I'm not moving!''

"Well I'm leaving Edward, so either you stay here, or come home with me so I can entertain you," Tanya said, sounding slightly angry.

"I'm not budging," Edward said, arms folded.

"Very well then, I guess we'll just have to catch up some other time. I'm not going to let this go, Edward," she announced, although it seemed to be an announcement as much for Bella's benefit as it was for Edward's.

With that, Tanya Denali and her barely there green dress and six inch stiletto heels marched off towards the door.

* * *

><p>Bella sat back down again, and found Edward was now lying on the couch. Rosalie and Emmett, who'd been dancing for nearly three hours straight, returned to the table, the exercise having cleared their heads slightly.<p>

"Wow, how much has he drunk tonight?" asked Emmett, observing a very cheerful Edward.

"Well, last time I asked, he said he'd put $1000 in his wallet, but only $200 was left," Bella answered, watching Edward as he grinned stupidly, "but he was buying everyone who asked drinks. Still, he got through an elegant sufficiency of liquor and spirits tonight,"

From what she'd observed, Tanya had been insisting that Edward buy drinks for them both roughly every ten minutes or so, but Edward had been going doubles and then triples each time.

"Looks like a little more than an elegant sufficiency if you ask me," Rosalie said, "come on, the limo is here to take us home."

* * *

><p>Edward woke up to the one of the biggest hangovers he'd ever had. It was simply pounding away at his cranium, and he groaned and rolled over, before falling out of bed with a thump.<p>

He lay on the floorboards, clutching his pulsating skull and trying to ignore the pain in his arm while the door burst open, and a pair of very nice legs rushed towards him.

"What the hell happened?" demanded the legs

"I rolled over and my bed disappeared," mumbled Edward in response, still watching the legs.

"You prat; this is a guests bed, it's only a single. It's not like your bed at home in Seattle, where I assume you could take a running jump from the centre and still not reach the edge,"

"Mmm..." said Edward, not moving.

"Come on then, get up, you're awake now," the legs coaxed.

Edward, who had landed face down, put one hand on his bed and slowly raised himself to his feet.

It was at this point that the legs, who were attached to the lower half of Bella's body, realised that Edward wasn't wearing a shirt and only had his boxer-briefs on, and blushed a deep shade of red.

Edward, in his present state, wasn't thinking and wasn't concerned about his state of dress, instead he flung an arm around Bella for support, and they tottered their way towards the kitchen.

"I'm really hungry," he declared, leaning against the back of the couch, while Bella did her best not to stare.

"If you ask nicely," Bella said, trying to avert her eyes, "I'll make you an omelette or something for breakfast."

"Mmm... that sounds good," Edward responded, before rolling over the back of the couch. Bella took the eggs out of the back of the fridge, and got the bowl ready, only to be greeted by the sounds of heavy breathing.

Sure enough, Edward had fallen asleep on the couch.

* * *

><p>"What happened?"<p>

Edward had just woken up on the couch, his head still aching, wondering what the hell had happened to him in the previous 24 hours.

"You got very, very drunk," said Rosalie, who was sitting on the other couch, observing him over her laptop.

"And got picked up by a famous actress," Emmett added from the kitchen.

"And pretty much made a prat of yourself," Bella finished, from the dining table where she was also tapping away on her laptop. "Fortunately, through a combination of sheer luck and blind stupidity every single news headline seems to suggest that you were an innocent party caught between two hollywood stars."

"Two? Oh god, Tanya," Edward breathed, reaching for his pocket to check his phone, and then realised he was only in his briefs.

"Yes, Tanya," Bella responded, dropping the laptop on his chest.

On the Google News page she had up, there were several thousand stories about their little run in the previous evening. Thankfully there were no photos of them together, as photographers could not get inside the club, but there were several statements from 'reliable sources' that had them getting very cosy the previous evening.

"Who's the second girl?" Edward asked, clicking on a story at random.

"Apparently your little talk on our way in with Jennifer Aniston was misconstrued. That woman only has to talk to anyone remotely male and she's supposed to be into them these days, though,"

"Wow... I don't really know what to say," Edward replied, continuing to read.

"Say 'thank god' because this could have turned out much worse, and promise, no, swear on your life that you will keep a handle on yourself next time. We can't be taking risks like this, and it's my job that's on the line, not just yours. No clubs from now on."

"Well I'm sorry," Edward said, a hint of anger creeping in, "but I didn't ask to be turned into a sideshow freak either, I just want to play football,"

"Still don't think that's a valid excuse for you drinking yourself stupid," Bella replied.

"You would have done exactly the same thing if you'd had Tanya Denali hanging off your arm the entire night," Edward said, standing up and stretching.

"Why didn't you just tell her to get lost then?" Rosalie asked.

"Because this one," he said, pointing at Bella, "has spent the past 48 hours drilling into me how important it is not to fuck this up. So I coped in the way I knew best."

"Which was to drink yourself stupid," Bella repeated.

"Seriously, she was like a leech," Edward said, wandering towards his room. "A leech which wasn't even responding to salt, or in this case, me telling her politely to fuck off,"

"You better not have told her to fuck off!" Bella shouted after a retreating Edward, "If she comes out anywhere and says that you said that to her, you're going to be massacred! I can see it now, headlines about sports stars and their lack of respect for women!"

* * *

><p>"Oh god!" came his voice from the guest bedroom.<p>

"What is it now?" Bella sighed

"She's been texting and calling me all morning! Can I file an injunction or something? Tell her to leave me alone?"

Bella shook her head.

"Try and forget about the apparently hideous problem that a famous actress is chasing you desperately, and come here and talk about your job for a second,"

"Oh god, she's asked about nearly every night this week," Edward said, reappearing with his iPhone.

"Well, tell her your unavailable because your agent has lined up work for you all this week," Bella answered, flipping her laptop around.

Edward forgot his phone for a second and lent in to look. He had the Nike interview tomorrow, and Bella had given him a block of time in which to answer some questions from Sports Illustrated, who would call him that evening.

"No full interview and photo shoot anymore?" Edward enquired.

"Well, they wanted to do it tomorrow so they could put the issue out, and I told them that it was either next week, or over the phone. So they are going to use stock images that they have and conduct it over the phone."

"Suits me," Edward replied, flicking down to the following day. "But why couldn't we just do it the day after the Nike interview? Sure I prefer it this way, but surely a single day won't make a difference?"

"Look at the remainder of your week," Bella said.

"Holy shit," Edward said, glancing over the schedule for the remainder of the week.

"Yeah, turns out Giorgio Armani weren't expecting to be turned down by your agent, and already had a campaign planned out for you. Looks like they've just got it off the shelf and revived it. They're going to shoot a TV commercial as well as the billboards and print media ads. It sounds like it's going to be big. Really big. We're going over Wednesday, so day after tomorrow, to work it all out, contracts and everything. I even spoke to Giorgio Armani himself, he said he's really excited to have you come on board for their new campaign. Unfortunately, he'll be in Milan while the shoot is happening, but he said he will endeavour to contact you at some point this week, and will come see you when he's over here next."

"TV commercials? As in, acting?" Edward asked.

"Yes. Don't worry, I might have mentioned that you've had no experience in front of a camera, so they said they'll shoot the photographic part first, and they'll coach you through the filmed section. There's only a little dialogue, and none of it is for your character, so you're sorted there. I've been sent directions and storyboard samples for you to have a look at, familiarise yourself with, and learn. Please Edward, learn your cues,"

Edward nodded slowly, grabbing the printout of the stage directions, as Rosalie descended to examine the plans with poorly disguised glee.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay so it was a little shorter, but packed with lots of goodness I like to think. Plenty more Edward being a star coming right up, living the NYC life, and generally trying to figure out his existence. Of course, with plenty of EB tension thrown in. Anyway, please leave a review, I read and take into account all of your opinions, you really do help me with ideas and motivation.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay, so I understand some of you are going to ask where I've been. To be honest, I don't really feel like telling you the full story, we'll just leave it as a family event. Anyway, moral of the story is, I didn't feel much like writing for a few weeks, but now I'm back and better than ever... hopefully. As always, please read and review!**

Bella was nervous as she arose the next day, putting on her best business attire, and knocking on Edward's door early to wake him up. The contract lawyer that she'd hired to come for the next two days was arriving an hour before the people from Nike, just to have a quick discussion over what Edward was looking for in the agreement in terms of conditions, exposure and of course, financial return.

Of course, Edward showed very little interest in this, and the contract lawyer, a man of about 55 years of age, with no hair to speak of who went by the name of Mason, spent all his time talking to Bella.

When Bella had called the people at Nike, and they'd said they wanted to meet Edward, she'd asked where they should meet. The marketing director, Paul Shagin, had said that they wanted to meet Edward in his home. He'd mentioned the Tiger Woods scandal, and the importance of seeing a potential client within their home environment. So Bella had asked Rosalie whether she'd be amenable to holding a meeting in her home, and while she was reluctant, she eventually agreed.

* * *

><p>The party from Nike arrived punctually, and as Bella had suggested, Edward greeted them at the door, and led them through to the main room.<p>

Paul had shaken them both by the hand, and as Bella had requested, Emmett and Rosalie stayed upstairs for the introductions. She didn't want anything getting in the way of business, especially not the fact that Emmett was signed with Reebok.

Paul Shagin complemented Edward on his home, saying it said a lot about him, but Edward, of course, couldn't let the compliment be, and just run with the suggestion.

"Oh no, it's not my house," Edward responded, as Bella struggled to keep her face neutral. Part of the charm of this house was that it wasn't outrageously huge or pretentious, and it suited the image they were trying to project.

"No, this is Rosalie Hale and Emmett Cullen's house," Edward continued, "they are just very generously letting me stay here until my apartment is tenable, and the paperwork is complete,"

"Oh really? That's very generous of them," Paul replied.

"Yes it is, given that they are already putting up Bella here," Edward chuckled, as Bella forced a smile.

* * *

><p>Three hours, and lots of contract wrangling later, they'd finally hammered out a deal between Nike's lawyers, and Mason, who'd done a rather good job from Bella's limited experience. Nike wanted Edward to be the face of their new cleat, the Nike Air Zoom Alpha Talon. He would wear it during the season, and they would shoot an advert with him, as well as use him in print ads.<p>

The shooting would take place in four weeks time, so the campaign could be released in time for the new season, and the entire deal would last three years, and be worth $2.5 million over that period.

As they were leaving, Emmett came down, and engaged in friendly banter with about his endorsement deal with Reebok, who joked about how much better his offer could have been. Emmett just laughed, and shook the man's hand, who in turn nodded approvingly and Edward. Bella went from slightly annoyed at Emmett for breaking her request to very happy. She could tell that through Edward's growing friendship with Emmett, it had made a good impression.

* * *

><p>Bella spent the rest of the day organising Edward's finances, a task that she took no particular joy in. At UCLA she had done a semester on financial management, but she was out of her depth, so she hired him a financial manager, whose job it was to look after all this fresh income that was coming in.<p>

Whereas before he was simply earning his team salary and nothing more, now there were going to be pay checks arriving from every which way, and Bella wasn't prepared to deal with the subsequent complexities. So as Edward, who out of gratefulness to Rosalie for the loan of her house while confining her to the upstairs, a request that he'd only discovered had been made after the Nike representatives had departed, was cooking them all dinner.

Bella had enquired as to whether Edward had any idea how to cook, and he'd looked wounded.

"In college, there was a girl who was studying at Le Cordon Bleu College of _Culinary Arts_ at Florida, and she convinced me to come along to the night school with her. She only lasted a month, but I enjoyed the cooking, so I kept going. In a different class, of course," he'd grinned.

Bella had only sighed, and gone back to work.

True to his word, however, Edward had served up a masterpiece. It was a Salmon roulade, baked then served over a potato galette with a tomato-butter sauce, accompanied by asparagus and julienne carrots.

"I would never have guessed you had it in you," Rosalie said, as they devoured the meal.

Edward then followed it up with dessert; Individual Grand Marnier soufflés served with a Latte accompanied by rosemary cashew biscotti.

"You," Emmett declared between mouthfuls, "are the designated cook from now on. I will do all your cleaning and washing, as long as you will agree to provide the meals. Also, you are welcome to stay until next year, and longer if possible. Definitely longer," he added, after another bite.

"I warn you, I'm not putting in this much effort every evening," Edward said, chuckling, as Emmett decimated his meal in record time, "if you're going to take about thirty seconds to get through it,"

"Are you suggesting I should take longer over it? I don't think I've got the self restraint," Emmett replied, finishing off his desert as others moved on to their second bites.

* * *

><p>Sports Illustrated called in the evening and Edward had disappeared into his room for half an hour to answer copious numbers of questions. Bella had enquired how it had gone afterwards, keen for information about the first interview he'd taken with her as his agent, but he simply nodded in typical Edward fashion, and told her that it was 'good'.<p>

When pushed, he said they'd asked him about how his experience in Seattle was, and what he was hoping to achieve in NY, but he wouldn't divulge any more than that.

Edward spent the following day at number 114, 5th Avenue; the New York headquarters of the Giorgio Armani Corporation. The contract negotiations were quick, as the offer was generous enough for the contract lawyer and their new financial manger to suggest signing the draft that had been prepared.

The rest of the day was spent in the studio, with Edward having a practice shoot with in-house photographers and acting out some silent scenes. Bella sat behind the camera and watched as the makeup people went to work on an uncomfortable looking Edward.

He was forced into getting a fake tan, which he was none too pleased about to begin with, and then they began arranging his facial makeup, which involved three people working simultaneously on him. Fortunately, the director of photography immediately vetoed and alterations to his hair, citing that it was something that set Edward apart, along with his eyes.

* * *

><p>When announced they were going to wax him, Edward almost screamed.<p>

"Not a fucking hope in hell!" he shouted at the director, who looked affronted as he came to see what the uproar was about.

"Well, take your shirt off," he suggested, "and I'll see if we can manage without."

Edward removed his shirt uncomfortably, but due to a lack of any body hair was pronounced to be an acceptable specimen, much to his unbridled relief.

Unfortunately, the photos and the commercial would be in black and white, but Bella looked at some of the practice photos, and his eyes still appeared to possess the same intensity as they did in colour.

After nearly five hours of photography, Edward was finally released, but not after being given an address outside of Manhattan where the commercial and the photo shoot would take place.

When he arrived home, he cooked a quick meal for everyone, ate it, and then excused himself. He was as tired as he'd been after any session he'd had in the gym, and he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

><p>Edward was swimming gracefully from one end of the pool to another. His pants and his shirt lay by the edge of the pool, and he dived under elegantly, swimming down to just brush himself along the tiles on the bottom.<p>

Overhead, there were muffled noises, but Edward stayed under, only returning to the surface when his air had finally run out. He broke the surface, shaking his head as water pellets flew from the strands of hair.

He ran his hand to his left shoulder, before he heard a cough behind him. His face remained neutral as he turned in the water, to face the source of the noise. He gave an unapologetic smile, and made his way up the underwater steps towards the figure who was beckoning him with a finger.

* * *

><p><em>Three hours earlier<em>

Bella had arrived half an hour after Edward at the commercial shoot to find the entire place in uproar. She walked through the house, which was the location that the director of photography had chosen, and out into the backyard where all the action was taking place.

Removing her sunglasses, she glanced around, and finally spotted Edward, who was sitting in a fold out chair, wearing a robe and sunglasses himself on the uncharacteristically warm February day, listening to music through headphones.

Bella went and tapped him on the shoulder, and he removed the sunglasses.

"What is going on?" she asked, as the bustle continued around them. "I leave you half an hour to yourself to go and help Rosalie and Emmett move some things, and you manage to make your photo shoot a disaster," she added with a smile.

"My opposing lead, some model..." Edward began, before trailing off. His eyes opened wide, and he jumped up, grabbing Bella by the arm. "Do you have Rosalie's phone number handy? Good, because I think I just might have an idea,"

"Mr. Torino," Edward called to the director, who was busily shouting at some lackeys. "Mr. Torino!"

"Eduardo, is not good time now, I cannot find replacement for model who disappears. Ack, these models, Andate tutti a 'fanculo!"

"You've lost a model?" Bella asked incredulously.

"We've lost **the** model. She was supposed to play the other lead, and no one is available at this short notice, that they can get a hold of. Mr. Torino here is scheduled to fly out day after tomorrow to shoot something else, and we can't find anyone."

"But you thought of Rosalie," Bella said, understanding.

"Well, you thought of Rosalie, I just connected the dots," Edward added, as Alberto Torino looked inquisitive.

"Who is this Rosalie?" he asked

"She's a friend of Bella's. A model, a tall, blonde model, like the one who didn't show up. And she's down to earth and would love, I'm sure to come and play that part," Edward explained.

"Show me photograph," he said, grabbing the two of them by the arm, and leading them to a laptop.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Rosalie arrived looking flustered and excited, two states that Bella had never seen her friend in before.<p>

"Oh I look a mess; I haven't had my hair done or anything. It's going to be a disaster," she wailed.

Bella attempted to calm her down, but got a lecture about how this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and she had no time to prepare. She read directions and instructions while she was made up, and was given verbal instructions by the director and cameramen.

Finally she was ready, and they could commence filming.

* * *

><p>Bella sat behind in a chair that had been specially allocated to her, and watched the action unfold.<p>

The premise was that Edward began as a gardener, clipping hedges like the rest of the company he was with, around the edge of the pool. Naturally, he removed his sweaty shirt to reveal his body about ten seconds in. After twenty seconds of this rather stimulating image, Edward looked at the pool. Five seconds later, he was down to his Giorgio Armani boxer-briefs, and had waded into the pool while his co-workers shot him furtive looks as they continued their jobs.

Edward swam for a while, before diving underwater. In the meantime, the sound of the houses' owner arriving home in her car could be heard. The gardeners shout warnings to Edward, but he cannot hear them underwater.

He surfaces, only to hear the sound of a deliberate cough behind him, as all the gardeners sleek away quickly in the background. Edward turns around to see Rosalie, dressed to the nines in an exceptionally short, black dress that hugged absolutely everything, blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, with black, six-inch stiletto heels and large, mirrored sunglasses. She beckons him with a solitary finger.

Edward emerges from the pool, up the underwater steps. As he does so, Rosalie lowers her sunglasses, watching as his body reveals itself, along with the Giorgio Armani boxer-briefs. He stops in front of her, not breaking her gaze.

Slowly and deliberately, she puts her arm around him, and draws him in, as water droplets cascade over them both. She leans into his lips, until they are only half an inch apart...

"Cut! Amazing, is so good. We now, I am thinking, have what we need. This will make for good commercial. I made it, of course it will!" Alberto Torino shouted, as Rosalie released Edward and Bella let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding for the entire time Rosalie had been touching Edward.

He'd never looked so good. He still had the fake tan on, which she thought was a bit much, but apparently it showed better on film and in photographs, and it made his eyes stand out even more. This was also coupled with the fact that he was wet, and had no shirt on. All in all, it was having a devastating effect on the entire female crew, and several of the males as well.

* * *

><p>"So... what did you think?" Edward asked, as they sat in the back of taxi, as it started the long journey home.<p>

Bella shifted uncomfortably. "It was good," she replied

"Good?" he repeated slowly, "that sounds like you want to say something else but are too polite to; I'm not going to cry Bella, you can tell me the truth,"

"It really was good, I'm not trying to dodge the question," she said, still not meeting his eye.

"Then why are you lying? Because you're the worst liar in the world. You're blushing, for one," Edward said, leaning forward to examine her face with a grin.

"I'm not lying! It was good!" she said, "if you really want to hear it, that was absolutely amazing, alright? Every single woman there was just about ready to jump in your professionally fitted briefs there and then. You better hope Emmett doesn't see this, because it looked like Rosalie was nearly one of those females too,"

Rosalie had left an hour after they'd finished shooting everything that required her. Edward had stuck around to film some more of the underwater shots, and some more of him gardening. She'd offered Bella a lift home, and then raised an eyebrow at her when she'd said she'd stay.

"You aren't fooling anyone," Rosalie had said with an amused smile at her friend.

There was a pause in the taxi, and then Edward smiled once more.

"Did you say _every_ female?" he enquired.

"Oh shut up," answered Bella, staring out the window.

* * *

><p><strong>Haha consider that an apology for being away for so long. I hope you enjoyed reading that somewhere near as much as I enjoyed writing it. Anyway, if you diddidn't/are completely ambivalent, let me know in the medium of review! It's much more enjoyable than interpretive dance, and easier too.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello again...**

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><p>They arrived back home at seven o'clock, over 2 hours after they'd left the house in Bridgehampton, to find Emmett and Rosalie standing out in the street, admiring a car.<p>

"What's going on?" Bella asked, as the two of them peered through the windows.

"Oh, it's you two!" Emmett exclaimed, "look what Santa brought dear little Edward; or rather, Audi gave you as a gift!"

"No way," Bella exclaimed, looking at the vehicle.

"Yep," Emmett responded, holding out the keys, "one white 2010 model Audi R8, all for agreeing to endorse their products. It's alright for some of us," Emmett sniffed sarcastically, grinning. He threw the keys to Edward. "I shotgun first go after you though," he said.

"You drive a Jaguar that would just about be covered by my years salary," scoffed Bella, as Edward unlocked the vehicle, "You play professional football, I don't think you're exactly short of a dime,"

"Yeah, but..." Emmett whined, before jumping into the passenger seat without reply.

"Boys and their toys," Rosalie sighed, as the car roared off down the side streets.

* * *

><p>Bella was organizing the rest of Edward's busy schedule when he woke up the next day, so he declared that he would be fine without her, and set off for Bridgehampton alone, despite her protests.<p>

He dropped the accelerator pedal along South State Parkway and Sunrise Highway, making the journey in a relatively quick hour and a half, arriving just in time to start makeup all over again for the print campaign.

He was sitting there, halfway through having his complexion perfected, when his phone rang. He answered it without even glancing at the ID, anything to distract him from the fact his face was being molested.

"You've been ignoring me!" chirped a sugary voice down the line.

"Hello Tanya," Edward replied sulkily.

"Oh, are you not happy to hear from me? Is that why you haven't responded to my calls, texts or Facebook messages?"

"Tanya, I don't have Facebook, and the reason I'm not happy is because if I wasn't being employed by them, I'd be suing Giorgio Armani for the permanent damage their stylists are doing to my face," he said pointedly.

"Pussy," one of the women replied, while the other three laughed.

"Someone knows more than they should, because on Facebook, you 'like' my fanpage," she giggled. "Don't worry, I'm a fan of your page as well. Oh I do hope they're not hurting you darling, I'm going to come and make sure you aren't mistreated," Tanya announced.

"I don't think you will want to, Tanya, I'm in Bridgehampton at the moment," Edward told her, relieved for the first time that they were shooting so far away from the city.

"Oh no, I'm sitting outside in my car right now. A little birdie told me you were the new face of Giorgio Armani, and well of course I had to come and see," she replied, "see you in about 30 seconds," and then hung up.

"And here was I thinking this day couldn't get any worse," Edward muttered.

* * *

><p>Tanya insisted in hanging around the set for the entire day, and at lunchtime had whisked Edward away, claiming that he owed her a proper meal. They'd ended up at a restaurant in Centereach in the town, and Edward had been late because Tanya had refused to leave on time.<p>

He'd apologised, and gotten back to work quickly. Tanya had also spent the day offering advice about posture and poses while Edward did his best to ignore her, and follow the directions of the photographers.

He spent the day posing in thigh deep water in the pool, and changing out of various pairs of underwear to show off the whole range. Next it was photos of him digging in just his briefs, with a recreated sweat sheen covering his body. Then it was up into the house to take various photos of Edward draped over the windowsill and the ornate four poster bed, and finally one of him with a leg hanging over the balustrade on the staircase, holding onto the ceiling to balance.

"Aren't you going to invite me out to dinner?" Tanya asked after he'd finally been allowed to leave. It was 10 pm. The photographer had suddenly decided that the sunset in the background was the perfect backdrop to the window shots, and the images of him standing in the pool were infinitely better at night with the pool lights shining up. Even Edward had to admit, as much as he was annoyed about having to stay, that the results looked amazing from what he'd seen.

"Tanya, I've been up since 6 am this morning. I've been working all day. While I appreciate you coming out here to support me," he said through gritted teeth, "I really just want to eat and go to bed. I'm sorry, but it'll have to be some other time, or else I'm just going to fall asleep on you,"

"You better not be blowing me off Edward Cullen. I'm going to hold you to that. In fact, you're picking me up tomorrow evening, 6.30 at my apartment, and I've got you all to myself."

"But I'm..." Edward began, trying desperately to think of something.

"Nonsense, no excuses," Tanya said, grabbing his arms, gripping it so tightly her fake nails dug in. Producing a permanent marker from her bag, she wrote an address on his arm. "If you're even a minute late, I'll punish you," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek, before disappearing towards her car.

* * *

><p>Edward shivered, and made his way to his own vehicle. He'd left his iPhone in the glove box after lunch, hoping that Tanya would leave and then he'd have an excuse for not answering any subsequent calls. Of course she didn't leave, and the only missed calls he had were three from Bella, along with messages enquiring as to where he was.<p>

He used the Bluetooth as he drove, and Bella answered on the second ring.

"Hey, where have you been?" she asked, her voice unusually high.

"The director of photography decided that the sunset was an opportunity to good to be missed, and then one of his god damn assistants pointed out that the pool looked spectacular with the underwater lights and everything, so we had another hours shoot in there. On top of that, you'll never guess who turned up and spent the day harassing me," Edward replied.

"Tanya Denali," she answered immediately.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"It's all over entertainment websites, that she came down to 'support' you on set today. Apparently because it was far away it means that the two of you are dating," Bella answered, her voice still strained.

"Oh god. Well me taking her out tomorrow is not going to help that," Edward groaned.

"You're taking her out tomorrow?"

"Yeah, she said I owed her. I haven't responded to any of her texts or calls, or Facebook posts apparently. Even though I don't have Facebook."

"Ah, I forgot to tell you, yes you do. You also have Twitter and 485,000 followers as well. Don't worry; once the season starts, I'm sure you'll get more."

"Your handiwork? I honestly couldn't care less what you do with it, as long as you don't make me look like a prat."

"Well, you announced your move to the Giants, announced your endorsement deal with Nike, and said something positive about these Alpha Talon cleat things, a couple of times actually. You also announced yourself as the new face of Giorgio Armani, and then told the world how good Audi was and posted a photo of your new car. If I can get my hands on some of those mock photos from a couple of days back, I'll post them too,"

"Oh, that's all is it? I've been here what, about a week?"

"Well, you're an interesting person; I just checked, you've jumped to 495,000 followers since this morning. But what are you doing for your date tomorrow night?" she asked.

"Uh, I haven't even considered it, but what does it matter to you?"

There was a pause.

"I'm your publicist as well as your agent, Edward. This is your public image, and I have to be in the loop,"

"Guess I'm taking her somewhere fancy then," Edward suggested, and there was another lengthy pause.

"I guess you are," came the drawn reply.

* * *

><p>Edward arrived home, and was very grateful to find a plate of food left for him in the fridge to heat up.<p>

"I have newfound respect for models, Rosalie," he declared, as he ate ferociously, while the other three watched a film on the couches.

"There's so much ignorance surrounding the profession of modelling," Rosalie responded in a manner that told everyone what she thought of such ignorant individuals. "People assume you just stand there and get photographed!"

"Well, you kind of do," Edward responded, and Rosalie flashed an indignant look at him, "but it's very taxing all that standing. Very labour intensive," he added with a rush, as Emmett and Bella laughed.

* * *

><p>Edward stood at the front desk of the Four Seasons Hotel on East 57th, trying manfully to convince himself that leaving and never even considering the name Tanya Denali again would have no repercussions.<p>

He failed. So he addressed the lady behind the reception desk, who even though she had been pointedly staring at him since he arrived, still managed to sound shocked when he spoke to her.

"Could you let Tanya Denali, in the Ty Warner penthouse suite, know I'm here please?" he asked, and the woman nodded dumbly, and picked up the phone.

"She says to come up," the woman managed, and Edward sighed. This wasn't a good start.

"Um, maybe reinforce the fact that I'm _waiting_ for her in the lobby," Edward repeated, but the woman shook her head.

"She said you were to come and get her."

Edward scowled all the way to the elevator.

The elevator reached the top floor, and the intercom came on, as Tanya's sickeningly sweet voice echoed inside the small space.

"Who is it?"

"It's me Tanya," Edward said exasperatedly, "unless you were expecting someone else?" he added, unable to disguise the hope in his voice.

"Oh you are funny," she said over the speaker, and the doors slid open.

* * *

><p>Tanya Denali's penthouse was a sight to behold. It was a gorgeous white carpeted affair, with the lighting throwing up a pale red on the pearl-woven walls. It covered two floors, and everything was lined with gold. It was truly fit for a king, or in this case, a wealthy actress.<p>

"I'm in here silly," came Tanya's voice, assuming Edward's most burning desire was to locate her.

Edward pushed open the door to a most confronting sight.

Tanya Denali was standing facing away from him, looking at the dresses that were spread out over her bed. Without as much as a square inch of clothing on from the waist up, and a bare minimum of lace below it.

"I can't decide," she announced, "and I was hoping you could help me. Which one do you think looks better?" she asked as she turned.

Edward quickly turned his back to stare out the open door.

"Oh Edward, don't be like that. I just wanted your opinion," she cooed.

"The second one," Edward guessed.

"Really? So you did look after all! Well, it's not going to zip itself up," was her pointed reply.

Edward uncomfortably grasped the zip at the very nether regions on her back while she held her blonde hair high above her head.

"So, where are you taking me tonight?"

"Well, I have a reservation at 21 Club tonight, I've been told the food is excellent there," Edward replied, stepping back, as Tanya turned to display his blind choice in its full glory. Unsurprisingly, it was cut deep in the chest, and short from the waist.

"You look so good I could eat you!" Tanya exclaimed, and Edward cringed slightly. The dress code at 21 required that he wore a jacket and wouldn't admit individuals wearing jeans, so he was representing Ermenegildo Zegna in a suit that had been made for him simply by using the measurements taken from his NFL player profile. Of course, being professional tailors, they insisted that it was only a temporary measure until he could be properly fitted.

He wore a simple pale blue dress shirt, without a tie, and a dark grey dinner suit to match, not wanting to appear too formal.

"You look nice too," he forced himself to reply, politely.

"Don't I just?" she said, pirouetting in a manner that the white dress she was wearing wasn't designed for.

"We should go, the reservation is for 7, and we don't want to be late," Edward said, and Tanya promptly grasped his arm.

"Well then, let's head off," she announced chirpily, leading him towards the elevator.

* * *

><p>The chauffeur ride to West 52nd Street was the longest fifteen minutes of Edward's life.<p>

She simply did not stop talking the entire way, and in that enclosed space, Edward was fairly sure he was only minutes away from throttling her just to make her quiet. He shared a knowing look with the driver, as he tipped the unfortunate man generously as compensation for the pain that had been inflicted.

21 Club was an elegant building, covered in black wrought iron highlighted with gold leaf on the balustrades and door. Most noticeable though was the row of jockey's who stood on the rail of the first floor balcony, the statues permanently saluting passersby.

Tanya insisted that they posed for the speculative photographer who couldn't believe his luck when they stepped out of the limousine. Tanya pulled Edward into a tight grip and held him there for more than a minute while the man with the camera went ballistic on his shutter button, and then thanked them both profusely for their time.

They were greeted at the door, and invited to make their way to their reserved table, which Edward had deliberately selected. It was supposed to be George Clooney's favoured table in the establishment, and Edward was putting this night together in a manner that he thought would best please Tanya.

* * *

><p>"Edward!" came the cry from a table by the door.<p>

Edward spun to find himself looking at Jonathan Tyler, member of the board of directors and co-owner of the New York Giants, dining with a lady that Edward assumed was his wife.

"Mr. Tyler, this is a surprise!" Edward said, suddenly nervous. He wasn't sure how impressed his new employers would be if they actually met Tanya Denali. She was relatively good and wholesome in the public perception, but in real life she was something very different.

"This is my wife, Lizzie," Jonathan said, indicating to the woman, who smiled as Edward nodded politely to her.

"A pleasure to meet you. This is Tanya Denali," he said, wrapping a casual arm around her waist to pull her away from whatever was distracting her.

"Ms. Denali, it's a pleasure," Lizzie Tyler said, as she and Tanya shook hands, "our daughters are huge fans of yours. They'll be so jealous when they hear we met you."

"Aw, that's so sweet," Tanya replied, which made Edward wince.

"Well, enjoy your evening Mr. & Mrs. Tyler, it was a lovely meeting you," Edward said, pulling Tanya away, but not before Jonathan Tyler gave him an approving nod. He was fulfilling the franchises desire to up their national exposure, regardless of personal discomfort.

* * *

><p>The evening did not pass quickly for Edward. He was treated to the full Tanya experience, from ever so slightly air-headed and fluffy all the way to overbearingly drunk and touchy-feely. By the time they had departed 21 Club, Edward had been reduced to propping Tanya up and half carrying her to the taxi. Of course, word had spread quickly that they were out together, and the photographers didn't hesitate to make full use of the flash features on their cameras.<p>

The limo back to Tanya's penthouse was quicker because of there was less traffic, and while Edward was sorely tempted to leave her in the lobby, he resisted the urge and led her forcibly into the lift. Unfortunately, the ride had sobered her up into a more coherent and functioning individual, and meant she wasn't so easily manipulated.

"Edward...Edward!" she slurred, as she leant against him.

"Tanya," he replied firmly, keeping a firm grip on his arm.

"You are going to stay with me tonight," she announced, but Edward shook his head.

"I'm going to drop you and go home. I have things to do tomorrow."

"Buuuut... Edward! You can't leave. I don't want you to leave," she said, rubbing herself against the front of his suit. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" she asked, as she began to slip the shoulder of her dress down.

"Come on Tanya," Edward said, picking her up forcibly to stop her from continuing to undress, "you're going to bed."

The doors pinged as they opened, and Edward carried Tanya, who was complaining bitterly, through her penthouse to the bedroom. She thrashed around for a minute, trying to drag Edward down, but he hung back, and then retreated to the door for safety.

"You aren't leaving me! You can't!" his unruly date shouted from the bed.

"I'm going now, Tanya, good bye," Edward said, turning to leave.

"You're coming with me to the Oscars! You're my date!" Tanya announced out of the blue.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure Tanya, just sleep well, and I'm sure I'll speak to you soon," Edward said, trying to quieten her.

"No, look on the chest of drawers," she said, pointing. "That envelope has my invite. Check!" she demanded, sitting up on the bed, pouting.

Edward dutifully opened the envelope, which indeed did contain an official invite to the Academy Awards.

"You're going to be my date!" Tanya repeated, before falling fast asleep on her bed. Edward sighed, and glanced at the invitation again. He was sure that his employers would view it as an opportunity not to be missed. He just found the idea of spending another night in Tanya Denali's company positively pain inducing.

As he stood in the elevator, he thought about the evening that had just passed, and a strange thought dawned upon him. Four weeks ago, he would have stayed the night with girls who were stupider or drunker than that, especially if they were famous actresses. He smiled to himself slightly, as the doors opened into the lobby, and he exited with a slight spring in his step, genuinely proud that he hadn't even considered it.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you haven't all forgotten me... although I couldn't exactly blame you if you had.<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**I've decided I don't much like the way this story was introduced, I think the back-story is weak but I like how it's developing so I'll continue posting. I may fiddle with the whole Edward/Bella school history however, removing some of the bit I don't think fit. Anyway, as always, please read and review.**

* * *

><p>He unlocked the door as quietly as he could manage; given that it was 1 am by the time he got in, hoping not to wake anyone. Their bedrooms were upstairs, so he slipped off his shoes, dropped his jacket and loosened some buttons on his shirt, and went to the kitchen for something to drink.<p>

There was a light on at the end of the hallway however, and Edward padded along the floorboards to the kitchen. Seated at the table was Bella, head resting on some diary or other, fast asleep, surrounded by various items of stationary and her laptop.

He consider waking her, but resolved that she was obviously completely exhausted, and he realised that the whole arrangement was probably stressing her out no end, especially since she didn't have any formal qualifications when it came to representing him.

So Edward, carefully yet easily, lifted her, and carried her up the stairs like a china doll, and placed her in her bed. She muttered something in her sleep, and rolled over, unconsciously grasping her pillow in the motion. Edward smiled, and quietly shut the door.

Bella awoke with a start, and sat up quickly. She glanced blearily around, wondering what time of night it was, before realising that there was sunlight pouring in between the gap in the curtains. Then she realised that she was in her own bed, rather than seated at the kitchen table.

She stood up, and wandered down the wooden stairs to the kitchen, where the rest of the household were already well and truly awake.

"Morning sleepyhead," Emmett chuckled through the open screen door at the back, as he stretched on decking that covered their modest back yard.

"What time is it?" enquired Bella, almost afraid to ask.

"It's almost 11.30," chipped in Rose, as she lazily flicked through a magazine at the table, "most of us have been up for hours."

"Most of us didn't hit the red wine before I'd even left last night, and so weren't feeling quite so drowsy," Edward chimed in, as he tossed a football up and down from his position on the couch. "Hey Emmett!" he added as an afterthought

"Yeah?" Emmett replied, as he proved more flexible than Bella would have imagined possible with his bulk.

"Do you feel like going to the park?" Edward asked.

"What are you, five? Got an urge to feed the duckies have you?" Emmett replied.

"No you prat, I want to throw a football. I just realised I haven't actually had the opportunity since I arrived, I've never gone more than a week without doing it sometime."

Bella was barely awake, but she interjected.

"You have a press conference at 4.30 pm this afternoon. You're being officially presented to the public as a New York Giant. You can't be late for that."

"Well, how about we make a day of it then? You two can come from a walk with us! Come on, it'll be fun and get us away from everything for a bit," Edward coaxed. He was feeling a little cramped, and even though it was quite juvenile, he felt if anywhere could cure that feeling, it would be Central Park.

"Come on Bella, get off your BlackBerry already, what's the point if you're just going to conduct business deals for the next couple of hours?" Emmett asked as they walked, Edward and Emmett kitted out in plain grey hoodies, representing their respective universities with blue and orange (Edward) and purple and gold (Emmett) tracksuit pants.

"Sorry, Edward's just tweeted that you guys are going to play a pickup game of football if anyone is interested," she said, pocketing the device.

"What? You've just invited half of New York to play football with us in Central Park?" Edward asked, and Bella had the nerve to simply shrug.

"It's a good PR opportunity, you know, professional athletes interacting with the community, it's a definite feel good story."

"That sounds too complex for me, I just want to play football," Emmett replied, as he posed for a photo with a couple of teenagers as they walked.

A walk that would have taken normal people around 20 minutes to complete ended up being nearer to double that, as they made their way to the open expanse of grass near Turtle Pond in Central Park.

Edward and Emmett were happy to pose and sign for anyone who asked, and as they made their way towards their destination, they accumulated a trail of people taking photos and generally displaying an interest.

The Great Lawn was packed with people when they arrived. There were literally a thousand people standing there, and as Emmett and Edward came into sight, they began to clap and whistle. The massive crowd parted to let them through, and Edward produced a football.

"See what you've done?" Edward asked Bella, "What am I supposed to do now?"

But Bella was in public relations mode, and she simply picked out twenty children at random from the crowd, and started shouting at everyone to move back, to give them some room to play. Once Rosalie joined in the crowd control effort, order was quickly established.

The crowd formed a perimeter for the game, and they all took a seat on the cool yet sunny day to enjoy the spectacle that was unfolding. Being a child at heart, Emmett was in his element.

"Alright midgets!" he boomed, "who wants to join McCarty's Monsters!"

The numbers were split evenly, with Emmett and Edward captaining their respective sides. Edward pulled his kids in to a huddle, and knelt down to address his charges.

"Urmmm," he chuckled, watching Emmett spin one of his team around while another sat on his shoulders, "well, I think... you look like you should be quarterback," Edward announced, pointing to some scrawny blonde boy, "and..."

Emmett had thoroughly gotten to grips with all of his team as they lined up for the first down of their faux-touch football game.

Edward was on the line of scrimmage, if it could be called such, and someone had stepped forward claiming to be a referee, who had brought a whistle to train his Labrador Retriever, so they were away.

The man blew his whistle, and Edward promptly fell backwards as he was manhandled by 10 preteens and then promptly used as furniture, as Emmett cheered his teammates on while roaring with laughter, completely ignoring the ball.

Edward was given the ball on the next play, and team members from both sides decided it would be excellent fun to find out just how many kids he was capable of carrying while crawling along on his hands and knees.

After they'd mucked around for forty minutes, and every child had emerged thoroughly filthy but unscathed, Edward and Emmett spent some time with the rest of the crowd, signing as much as they could, posing for photographs and generally talking to people.

Edward knew that this was something that Bella had fabricated, but despite that, it felt good to be that person again, the one who everyone had such high hopes for, the person that could represent a city admirably.

He gave a few of the teenagers an impromptu quarterbacking tutorial, enjoying watching all these people who simply adored the game that had given him so much.

A local television station had come as well, and Edward and Emmett both answered a few questions from reporters about the offseason, and particularly Edward, about how he was dealing with the shift from Seattle to New York.

Cameras flashed like spotlights out in the dark press pack, as Edward stood on the stage in front of the advertising board, holding a blue jersey in his hands, presenting his name and number towards the photographers. On the back he had "CULLEN" in large white letters, and beneath it, in even larger font size; the number 12 was emblazoned in the same colour.

He'd worn the number 12 his entire life, from high school, to college and finally onto the NFL. It meant something to him that he'd never shared with anyone, and he had no inclination to, no matter how many times he was asked.

John K. Marks and Steve Tyler stood either side of him, with Tom Collier to his left, each with a hand on his shoulder as they posed for more photos. After the presentation was completed, the four of them sat down to be bombarded with questions for the next hour.

The four housemates sat quietly at the dinner table as they ate, when the pensive mood was broken by the doorbell ringing. Bella, who was sitting closest to the hall, stood up and went to answer it. There was a brief muffled conversation and Bella returned holding an envelope.

"Who was that?" asked Rosalie, looking up.

"That was a concierge from the Four Seasons Hotel," Bella said, staring at the envelope.

Edward winced slightly, knowing the next sentence was going to please him one little bit.

"Edward has been invited to the Academy Awards..." Bella trailed off, staring at the envelope in shock.

"How the hell did she remember that?" Edward wondered out loud, "she was barely functioning last night,"

Rosalie turned to him, her mouth agape. "You got invited to the Oscars, and you didn't mention it?" she asked incredulously.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to anything," Edward replied, casually consuming another mouthful, "I barely survived our first date."

"So it _was_ a date then?" Bella interrupted, her voice high pitched.

"Yeah, what did you think it was? I took her out to dinner, and when I put her to bed, she asked me to the Oscars, but I thought, or at least hoped, she wouldn't remember," Edward replied.

"You put her to bed..." Bella continued her voice quieter now.

"So what? I put you to bed as well last night, after you fell asleep in your spreadsheets," he chuckled.

"Those spreadsheets are projected earnings... you put me to bed!" Bella shouted, her mind realising what he'd said.

"Well, you weren't about to move yourself," Edward answered, looking perplexed.

"I'm off to put myself to bed, goodnight," Bella said darkly, as she threw the invitation down on the table.

"What did I say?" Edward asked, looking at Rosalie, who didn't meet his eyes, but instead stood up, and followed Bella upstairs.

He turned to Emmett.

"Holy shit! Your girl is paying $34,000 a night for that Ty Warner penthouse. I wonder what it's like..." Emmett said, looking up from the laptop he was using.

"For god sake, Emmett, you play NFL, why don't you just book a night there and find out?" Edward said, standing up from the table.

"You know," Emmett said, with a smile, looking up the stairs towards Bella's bedroom where the muffled sounds of a Rosalie argument could be heard, "I might just do that. I imagine we won't be welcomed back after what I have planned for that night."

"Thanks for sharing, mate."

"That's as long as you haven't soiled it first with Tanya, anyhow," he added with a cheeky grin.

"I imagine they replace the whole bed, not just the bedding, by the look of that place. But more to the point, piss off." Edward said, as he disappeared down the hallway.

The next two weeks were unusually sombre and awkward in the Hale-McCarty household. Bella and Edward were cordial, despite Edward's best efforts to make up for whatever he'd done, which had no impact whatsoever.

Bella simply knuckled down and concentrated on solidifying Edward's commitments, which now included talk show appearances while he was in Hollywood, an opportunity that was "too good to pass up" according to Peter Jean-Paul, who'd gotten in touch with Jimmy Kimmel and Conan O'Brien's people through mutual acquaintances to tee the appearances up.

For Edward's part, he had interviews with magazines, and shot the Audi advertisement, which occurred in 5th avenue over a two day span, and involved closing a full two lanes in the early hours of the morning so as to avoid interrupting traffic flow. Edward was only one of several 'celebrities' featuring in this particular advertising campaign, and it didn't involve any acting, so he found it a far more relaxed experience.

The amount of time he spent in expensive hotel rooms where magazines were conducting interviews and photo shoots was starting to wear very thin. He put on his best fake smile, and acquiesced to their every wish, including posing virtually naked with just his white Giorgio Armani briefs on for Marie Claire, and the Cosmopolitan front cover shoot with Daniela Harris, the up-and-coming female sports reporter for ESPN. The article was supposed to be about empowering women, but Edward failed to see how him stripping down to nylon New York Giants football pants, and having this red-headed reporter drape herself over him succeeded in achieving anything approaching that.

By the end of the fortnight, the idea of fleeing Bella's regime for Hollywood, even if it was with Tanya, held a certain appeal.

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><p><strong>A bit fluffy, but this story is basically one big cotton ball. If any of you have ever seen the television show Entourage, someone mentioned that it's a bit like that, which I agree with. However, it clearly focuses on other things too (I'd like to think). Anyway, please read, review, and share your valuable advice, because I read all of your support and suggestions :)<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Oooh... I know it's been a while since I updated (again) so my apologies. Hope I can make it up to you with a nice long chapter :)**

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><p>The Rolls Royce Phantom Limousine pulled up outside of Rosalie and Emmett's Upper West Side home, and the driver, dressed in full chauffeuring finery, complete with the hat and white gloves, ascended the stairs and rung the front doorbell.<p>

"Your ride is here!" called the voice from inside, and Emmett opened the door, as the driver tipped his hat respectfully.

Edward shuffled past carrying his bags, but the driver almost wrenched them from his grasp, as if shocked and offended that Edward would even consider carrying them for himself. While the man loaded the bags into the boot, Emmett, Rosalie and Bella followed Edward down onto the pavement.

"Come honey, the jet is waiting for us," came a voice from behind him, and he turned to see Tanya ensconced on the back seat of the Rolls, wearing a pair of Dolce wraparound sunglasses, despite the fact that it was almost cold enough for snow.

"Have fun," said Rosalie, unable to keep the tone jealousy under control, as she hugged him, followed by the ever amusing Emmett, who gave him a manful squeeze of the rear, right in Tanya's face. Bella simply kissed his cheek lightly, and muttered something about thinking of some good stories to tell on Kimmel.

The door was held open for Edward by the driver, and with a final cheerful wave, he allowed himself to be pulled into the clutches of Tanya Denali for the next four days.

* * *

><p>Sitting 30,000 feet in the air, rocketing at Mach 0.9 toward LAX, Edward had a chance to appreciate what a true engineering marvel the Gulfstream G650 was.<p>

In typically classy fashion, the minute they'd taken off, Tanya had insisted that the hostess played 'Like a G6' over the state of the art sound system which had kept her entertained for all of three and a half minutes.

Edward settled back into the soft leather seat, as Tanya bounced around the cabin, stopping only to inhale various alcoholic beverages that she'd ordered. It was going to be a very long four hours.

* * *

><p>It was the same deal when they landed as when they took off; no customs or security checks. They landed, were towed into the private hangers, and simply stepped off the tarmac into another limousine, this time though there were no Rolls Royce's involved. It was an offensive black and white number, which seemed far too large to simply be transporting two people.<p>

They cruised up the 405, as Tanya continued to be as obnoxious as she had been on the plane, although this time there was nothing to restrict her access to the mini-bar except her own ability to operate the handle on the door.

Edward watched as they progressed along the Santa Monica Boulevard, turning finally into Wilshire Boulevard after what seemed like an exceptionally long 45 minute drive from LAX. He pulled his phone out, and noticed that he had a missed call from Bella, and resolved to call her back as soon as Tanya was out of earshot; he had no faith in his current companion's ability not to say something inappropriate.

The limousine pulled to a halt outside the gilded entrance to the Regent Beverly Wilshire, which lay at the intersection of Rodeo Drive and Wilshire Boulevard, where he and Tanya would be staying for the duration of their visit. Well, for Edward's visit anyway, Tanya was not flying back to New York as she had another filming commitment almost immediately after the Academy Awards week, much to Edward's relief. The idea of a repeat performance on the flight home held little appeal.

* * *

><p>The paparazzi in Los Angeles were something else again. The minute Edward stepped out of the car, opening the door for Tanya like the gentlemen he'd never been raised to be, and escorting her to the entrance through the scrum, it was almost surreal. They were buffeted and pushed around as cameras were thrust in their faces by aggressive photographers desperate to get the money shot.<p>

Edward guided the pair of them through, muttering about why they couldn't use the back entrance, but Tanya simply beamed, and seemed to be rather enjoying the whole experience. Hollywood during Oscars week; it was a crazy place to be.

"And this will be your suite Mr. Cullen and Ms. Denali, The Presidential Penthouse at the Regent Beverly Wilshire is the finest of its kind to be found in California, I can assure you of that. While you have already had any prior requests or preferences fulfilled, should you have any more, I shall be at your service for the entire duration of your stay. We hope you enjoy your time at the Regent Beverly Wilshire, please, do not hesitate to ask for anything at all that you might require."

The man in the full suit with coat-tails and a bowtie bowed low to the marble floor, and walked out backwards, still bent double, taking the vast doors with him. Edward thought they only did that for royalty in the middle ages, but apparently this was as close to royalty as one got in Los Angeles. Tanya Denali was a Hollywood princess, and was treated accordingly.

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><p>The penthouse suite was vast, far too big for two people to practically occupy, but nevertheless the advantages of having the opportunity to dodge Tanya weren't lost on Edward.<p>

Edward had been virtually terrified that he would be forced to spend ninety-six consecutive hours with Tanya, but his fears had proven unfounded. He had his interviews with Conan O'Brien and Jimmy Kimmel on their talk shows in the next two evenings, and the night after that was the big event itself, so Edward would be booked every evening he was in Los Angeles for.

"I'm going to take a shower before dinner," Edward announced, as their bags were brought in by concierges.

"I feel like a quick shower too," Tanya announced, smiling in a manner she must have thought was sly.

"And we can save water if we do it together," she added with a smile.

Edward laughed it off, ignoring the serious suggestion as a joke and trying not to meet the eyes of the hotel staff, who looked very keen to leave. Edward bounded up the stairs faster than he knew Tanya could manage in her heels, and locked himself in the bathroom with a travel bag.

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><p>He extracted his phone from his jeans pocket after having removed his v-necked white t-shirt, and checked it again. There were no more missed calls, but as he ran his shower, he took the opportunity to return her call. She picked up on the fourth ring.<p>

"_Edward_," came the voice down the line.

"Hey Bella, just calling to let you know I've arrived, and returning the call I must have missed while we were in the air,"

"_Ermenegildo Zegna called, they want to make a time while you are in LA to fit you properly with one of their suits, they're hoping you'll make time for them tomorrow because they've said they'll go all out to get it ready for your big night,"_

Edward was slightly taken aback at the lack of pleasantries, but answered the business question posed.

"Well, I've got prerecording for Conan tomorrow at four, but before then I'm fine, I'll leave that up to you," Edward replied.

"_Good, I'll tell them you'll be available at 10am then, they're literally a minutes' walk down Rodeo Drive from the front of your hotel. Speaking of, how is the hotel and its occupants?"_ she asked casually, and Edward smiled to himself in the huge mirror in his bathroom. She wasn't completely devoid of sentiment after all.

"It's good. A bit big and showy for mine, but comfortable enough," Edward replied, baiting her. He knew she had a passing interest in Tanya, and wanted to see if she'd bite.

"_How about your house guest, how is she to co-exist with?" _Bella's question came airily down the phone.

Edward's grin widened. Hooked in.

"Yeah she's not bad actually, we're just about to go to dinner, she's decided she's taking me somewhere this time, since I'm on her patch now."

"_I'm sure it will be very expensive and pretentious, just the way she likes,"_ was Bella's reply.

Edward chuckled, and moved the conversation along.

"What have you got planned for your week without your star client?" he asked, unlacing his shoes.

"_First off, I am not your agent, this ridiculous situation is temporary, don't get too comfortable, and secondly I don't have to tell you everything I do," _Bella replied smugly.

Edward was intrigued. "I have to tell you everything I'm doing, what have you got to hide?" he enquired.

"_It's not much really..."_ Bella insisted.

"Alright then, tell me."

"_I've actually got a date," _Bella replied, sounding immensely pleased with herself.

"_And he's a billionaire and he's almost as pretty as you are!" _came Rosalie's distinctive voice loudly through the speaker.

"_Oi! You think Edward and this other chump are pretty!?"_ came the outraged voice of Emmett in the background, as Edward chuckled at the man mountains indignant tone and ensuing muffled argument, before returning to the issue at hand.

"What do you mean you've have a date? And it's with a billionaire and..." Edward cut himself off before he said something he'd regret.

"_It's not really a date,"_ Bella chuckled, and Edward realised she was simply playing him like he had her, "_it's a kind of business meeting. It's with Jacob Black, that guy who's always on the front of Forbes? He's interested in investing in the team, maybe becoming a co-owner. We met him the other day, and he was very charming, and said he'd love to speak to a member of the marketing department about the potential for the team to move into new markets. He offered to take me to lunch to talk about it."_

Edward was suddenly less sure about it. It seemed like a strange coincidence that the businessman just happened to ask the hot brunette to lunch.

"Why you, why not Peter or one of the board members?"

"_Oh well I arrived early, and he and I were talking before the meeting, and we kind of hit it off. He's very charming you know, intelligent too. He said he's sick of meeting with people trying to sell him on the team this year, he wanted to talk about where the team could be in 10 years, and that's where I was so helpful,"_ she said just a little too cheerily for Edward's liking.

This Jacob Black sounded like a pretty blunt operator, but clearly his methods were effective. Not much subtlety, but results were results, and he'd scored himself lunch with a beautiful girl. Being a billionaire probably didn't help things.

"So how old is this billionaire?" asked Edward, as his mind threw up images on middle aged men who lusted after women half their age.

"_How have you not heard of Jacob Black at all? You're into property investment and everything! He runs his own financial advising and hedge fund management business, he's the CEO and everything. He was the second youngest billionaire ever, and the first Native American billionaire. He's only 32! Can you imagine that?"_ Bella gushed, and Edward was saved the indignity of answering by a knock on the door.

"Who are you talking to?" came Tanya's voice from his allocated bedroom.

"_Who's that?"_ asked Bella simultaneously in Edward's ear.

Never had Edward been so glad to be in the presence of a surgically augmented, blonde, Hollywood actress.

"I'm just talking to my agent, Tanya, sorry, just give me a minute, I haven't even had a chance to jump in the shower yet," he replied in a much more affectionate tone than he would otherwise have used.

"_I better let you and Tanya go and enjoy your dinner then,"_ Bella replied sharply, "_don't forget about tomorrow morning, and I will want to discuss the stories you've decided on for Kimmel, and the prep for the Conan skit. Make them different, but they better be good, Edward, this is a golden opportunity."_

"Yeah, yeah, I won't forget, of course I've got good stories, or at least, I will have. But what do you mean 'skit'? I thought it was an interview?" he added as she tried to respond indignantly to the news he'd given his interviews no thought whatsoever.

"_Of course it's not an interview; no one in Hollywood interviews a guest the night after they've appeared on a rival show. You're going to do a little skit on Conan's show, don't worry, I've been assured that there isn't much acting involved."_

And with that Bella hung up on him.

* * *

><p>He lay on his generously sized bed, undoubtedly ruffling the Egyptian 1000 thread count cotton sheets no end. His problem was that his mind was running at a million miles an hour after his phone call, and he didn't know what to make of it. More importantly, he didn't know what to make of <em>her.<em>

His mind wouldn't stop though. He sorted through the absolutes; Bella was attractive. Very attractive. Attractive enough to give him a particular problem, which made doing anything other than sitting behind something socially quite awkward.

But he also knew, however, that he still couldn't look at her without the feeling of resentment rising in his throat. It had lessened, certainly, they were older, she was different, but he couldn't forget what had happened to him, the mess she'd left him in. It had hurt then, and it still hurt as he thought on it.

So where did that leave him? Well, frustrating pangs of inexplicable jealously aside, he came to the conclusion that he had an overwhelming desire to screw the life out of his unbelievably sexy agent, or PR person, or whatever she was being called this week. But he couldn't, no matter how hard it made him grip the sheets in frustration. Not to mention any other related hardness.

It certainly wasn't that he doubted his ability to close the deal, far from it. He hadn't failed to notice that Bella had been flashing him some lusty glances recently, especially after the Armani photo shoot. He simply couldn't afford to, not an affair with an employee of the franchise that employed him, not before his first game, and especially not when he was supposed to be dating one of the hottest actresses on the planet.

The definition of the hottest was very subjective in Edward's opinion. He'd certainly gotten through his fair share of the blue eyed, blondes with surgically enhanced 'assets' in his time at the University of Florida. There, they were known as cheerleaders, and wore identical tight fitting outfits to go with their personal uniformity of appearance.

He'd decided after about the fifth cheerleader in a month, somewhere in his second semester, that he would like some diversity in his diet, and started to vary his choices a bit. Edward was not going to lie, he wasn't about to be named man of the year for his time at UF.

The women of Seattle weren't exactly his biggest fans either. Well, the ones who woke up in their beds without so much as a thank you note, anyway. Of course, there were always more from the same mould, ready to take the 'hottest young NFL quarterback' into their beds.

Since he had left Seattle, however, almost a month previous, he'd gone completely cold turkey. He knew for some people that wasn't a massive achievement; there were plenty of guys and girls who were saving themselves for marriage who were older than he was. He himself had added a few guilt weights to previously untouched promise rings during his time at Florida.

But for Edward it was breaking all kinds of records. In those last few months of high school it had started for him, he was hurting desperately, and nothing helped him forget like nailing Lauren Mallory in an unused classroom and then never speaking to her again. He remembered how she'd looked like the cat that got the cream, picking up what Bella had lost, becoming the 'girlfriend' of the guy she'd helped to screw over. That had started the slide; the satisfying vindictive pleasure that tryst had garnered him.

* * *

><p>Edward realised how foolish he had been to agree to Tanya's suggestion of "a lovely walk to dinner" when he stepped out into the street. Any good will she had accumulated by helping him piss Bella off had disappeared when the flashbulbs began to explode in his eyes as the twenty person deep pack of paparazzi pounced. LA seemingly had developed its very own Academy Award week plague.<p>

The vindication he felt when Tanya had spoken up from outside his bathroom door puzzled him, he considered, as the aforementioned blonde took his hand and they began to fight their way through the crowd.

The trip that should have taken only two minutes to walk had turned into a near twenty minute marathon, and Edward's relief at arriving was tempered by the cogs of his mind churning. Tanya of course had opted for a table near the window, and made a great show of taking the seat that Edward robotically held out for her, smiling and waving at the camera's as the waiter lowered the shade to give them some privacy.

He looked up to see that Tanya's mouth was moving animatedly, and he remembered that he was supposed to be paying attention to what was being said. Of course, he was being treated to a blow by blow account of her new film "The Waitress," the viewing of which, from the description, sounded about as enjoyable an experience as having your skull used as a piñata substitute.

The restaurant, which was the restaurant of the hotel itself but was located outside the main hotel building, was known as "The Blvd", and in keeping with every element of LA life was showy, pretentious and overpriced. Edward ordered 'dry aged beef rib-eye' while Tanya ordered a starter as a main, giggling about 'being on a diet' which Edward thought was probably a constant state rather than a proposition that had a definitive time period or goal.

The flow of conversation was entirely in one direction, as Tanya talked incessantly about herself, her life and everything that fell in between. It ranged from the mildly offensive _"it's a shame Jay Leno only lets on really famous people, or else we could have gone together!"_ to the unbelievable _"I'm wondering whether I should write two acceptance speeches, or even three. Well, obviously have someone else write them."_ Edward adopted a 'grin and bear it' mantra that allowed him to survive the meal.

The suggestion, then, that of a trip to the "Cabana Club", which apparently was a high end nightclub in true Hollywood was met by Edward as an overwhelmingly positive idea. For Tanya, anyway. He could honestly say that his agent had banned him from attending nightclubs at all after the debacle at 1OAK on his first night in Manhattan. Tanya whined and argued, but Edward stood firm. He led her to a cab, while the camera lenses flashed, and sent her on her way but not before she'd planted a firm kiss on his lips.

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><p><strong>I'm hoping you feel the same as I do, that this story is getting better as my writing improves, because as I've mentioned before it wasn't very enjoyable rereading some of the stuff I wrote in early chapters. Anywho, please take a second to review, those little messages mean the world to me!<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

Edward smiled as he watched the cab disappear into the distance, carrying the source of much of his recent pain with it. He began to fight his way back to the hotel with the prospect of a quiet evening brightening his smile ever so slightly.

His battle to return to his hotel complete, he set about enjoying his newfound freedom by running the massive double bath in the master bathroom next to Tanya's bedroom. He filled it to the brim before sliding comfortably into it and settling down to watch the footage he had requested before his arrival; the complete set of game tapes from the New York Giants previous season.

As the heat penetrated his flight weary muscles, he lay back and watched each offensive down that the Giants had played in detail, often utilizing the waterproof remote to go back and re-watch plays and individual routes that particular players had run. He winced as he watched the offensive line allow yet another sack as the quarterback was subjected to yet another bone-rattling hit. He sincerely hoped that there would be a noticeable improvement in the O-line's blocking ability, but he wasn't holding his breath. It looked like it could be a long season for him.

The offence appeared to only have a single redeeming feature that he could see, and that was its wide receiving corps, or to be specific, it's number one wide receiver, Jasper Whitlock. Edward had come across Jasper Whitlock during his freshman year at Florida, while Whitlock had been in his junior year at Texas, in the BCS National Championship game. He was a famously quick, deep-threat option who had a reputation of making something out of nothing. He'd been drafted with the third pick the year before Edward, after breaking several records at the draft combine, most notably the 40 yard-dash, running a scintillating 4.19.

He was the proud owner of the best selling New York Giants jersey, aided by the fact he was tall, willowy and blonde, and sported a deep southern accent which meant that women made up almost half his jersey sales.

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><p>After a few more hours of game tape, Edward heard the door slam loudly, and the smacking of high heels on marbled floor. Tanya was home. Struggling to suppress a groan, he looked at his phone and realised it was after three in the morning. He had become so immersed in the tapes he'd blown six hours straight watching them, which was strange; he'd always avoided game footage like the plague before.<p>

He jumped out of the bath, and realised that he looked like a prune; the tips of his fingers and toes had wrinkled up something shocking, and he yawned widely. It was definitely time to get some rest, especially before he had to participate in this 'skit' that he had apparently signed up for on Conan the next day.

Having dried himself, he wandered out of the bathroom, fully intending to disappear into the guest room and lock the door, when Tanya, complete with six inch heels, came tottering up the stairs, half supporting herself with the handrail. Edward tried to look surprised to see her in this state, but failed miserably, as the Butler appeared underneath her other elbow, supporting the bits that weren't clinging onto the railing.

"Thank you for that, I'll take it from here," said Edward with a grimace, taking Tanya by the elbow. She was blind drunk, and slurring words so badly they weren't even intelligible, let alone meaningful. Edward was somewhat grateful for this however, as it allowed him to pick her up, and place her on the four-poster bed in the master bedroom with relative ease, remove her shoes and jewellery, cover her up warmly and then leave her there without any fuss. Unresponsive Tanya definitely had her advantages.

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><p>Edward groaned slightly as he rolled over, rubbing his eyes blearily. He could see the sun peeping through the drapes, and he resented it immensely. It took five minutes for him to give up on going back to bed, but eventually he rolled out, and trudged into his exquisite and overly gilded shower to wake himself up.<p>

After standing under the jets for five minutes, he felt infinitely more alive, and dressed himself, slim fit jeans and a button up shirt. The clock read 10:14 AM and Edward suddenly remembered the state in which his host had returned to him in. Creeping down the hallway, he pushed open the door to the master bedroom and peeked inside. Sure enough, Tanya was dead to the world; her room still pitch black with the curtains pulled firmly shut. She wouldn't be appearing for several hours yet.

Edward had never been to Los Angeles before; his only trip to California had been to Oakland to play the Raiders, given that the Chargers had played away at Seattle. He didn't have to be at the studio for the Conan O'Brien skit until three in the afternoon, so he decided that he would take the opportunity to get out of the city, and head towards the beaches. It looked like a warm day outside, and sun was something he hadn't had much of in Seattle or New York.

He didn't, however, have a means of getting there, and there was no way he was hiring a limo to drive him. He hunted around a bit, and finally resorted to ringing the concierge's desk.

"Good morning, how can I be of assistance this morning?" came the clipped reply after only a single ring.

"Um hi," Edward replied, "It's Edward Cullen from the Presidential Suite, I was wondering if you could help me with something?"

"Certainly sir, how can I help you?"

"Well I was wondering if you had the number of any car hire services in the area? I'm looking to take a short drive today."

"This can easily be arranged sir. We will organise it ourselves, and inform you when the vehicle is waiting for you. Would you like The Regent Beverly Wilshire to provide a driver, or will you be providing your own?"

"My own, my own!" Edward insisted, "But that's great, thank you very much."

"Does sir have a preference for the model of vehicle?" the concierge enquired.

"Surely you don't know what is available until you've rung up?" Edward replied.

"We are here to fulfil your wishes sir, if you have a preference, we will do our utmost to locate that particular vehicle."

"No, no," Edward replied, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly, "just get me something to drive, something with four wheels that gets me from A to B in reasonable time."

"Very good sir, I will send someone up when it is ready. Would you like to meet it at the front or the back of the hotel sir?"

"The back, definitely the back."

"Have a nice day sir."

Edward put down the phone and rummaged through his bag for his sunglasses. He couldn't fault the service given, that was for sure. With his wallet and phone tucked safely into his jeans, and his sunglasses hanging from the front of his shirt, he had barely set foot on the bottom floor of the suites two levels, when the bell rang for the door.

He opened the door, only for the butler to inform his that his car was ready. Edward checked his phone in disbelief; only fifteen minutes had elapsed. It wasn't called the best hotel in Hollywood for nothing he surmised.

He considered leaving Tanya without telling her where he was going, but in the end he compromised. He borrowed a pen and paper off the butler, and scribbled a quick note which he placed on her bedside table on top of her phone where he knew it would be found. Then it was down the elevator to the lobby.

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><p>He was led out the back, into a circular driveway at the rear of the building, where there was a loading bay and people milling around, doing their jobs. Several of them stared at Edward as he was led to his car, where the man he had spoken to on the phone stood waiting by his hire car.<p>

"Mr. Cullen, I hope you'll find this satisfactory?" he said, gesturing to the vehicle.

"It's absolutely perfect, thank you," Edward grinned, taking the keys that were offered to him. He tipped both men generously, especially the concierge, for the service they had provided, and they bowed appreciatively, and left him to it.

He looked at the car and smiled. The concierge had excellent taste, because waiting for him was a matte blue Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder, with the convertible roof dropped, and the light brown leather interior sparkling in the sunlight.

Edward unlocked the car and jumped in, firing up the engine right away, the noise making everyone in the vicinity who wasn't already watching jump slightly. Putting the car into gear, he put his sunglasses on as the sun glared off the shiny bodywork of the vehicle. Life wasn't so bad, he thought as he smiled, adjusting his Louis Vetton shades that he'd received free with his watch; he could have been in New York City where the forecast was for rain all week.

It took him fifteen minutes to clear the city, as he headed south towards Venice Beach. But that wasn't where he was aiming for, not even close. As he drove through the city, and people stopped and stared at him as he passed, he wondered about the wisdom of taking such a flashy sports car, but once he made the turn-off onto the Pacific Coast Highway, on the northern side of Los Angeles, all doubts were erased.

The feeling of cruising down possibly the country's most famous highway, with cliffs to his right and the Pacific Ocean crashing against the rocks to his left was exactly the tonic he needed after the crushing, claustrophobic sensation of being in the middle of Los Angeles in its busiest week of the year.

Malibu, California. Home to the successful, famous and fabulously wealthy. It had always been a place that had intrigued Edward, given it's notoriety as a getaway for people who were sick of being chased around by a camera and microphones.

Also, the appeal of the beach was something he had never really gotten to experience in his life. Sure, he'd moved from Forks to Florida, but Gainsville, where Florida University was situated, was exactly equidistant to the coast on either side. The nearest thing to be had to an outdoor swimming experience was the swamp, not an experience Edward had ever had to the urge to try.

* * *

><p>He pulled into the left hand turning lane as soon as he saw the word "Malibu" attached to a sign. Granted, he was in ownership of a GPS in his Lamborghini, but he had always preferred the analogue method of getting from A to B. Technology had a way of killing the joy of the journey to his mind.<p>

He idled the engine, as the car trundled slowly passed a small stone gate, towards a white weatherboard shack, approximately the shape and size of a beach house. To Edward's surprise, however, he found himself confronted with a barrier, blocking his path. He pulled up in front of it, and a portly man lent out the window of the building that divided the entry and exit lane of the small off ramp.

"Identity card?" the man asked, looking somewhat bored.

"I'm sorry?" Edward required, nonplussed.

"Your identity card, sir, your proof of residence. The card that you own that shows you are a resident of Malibu Colony. Only vehicles carrying the relevant documentation may enter."

"I don't have any card like that," Edward replied, still confused.

"I'm sorry sir, but this is a private residence, unless you have a card or are registered on a visitor entry list beforehand, there's no entry for you."

"So unless I live here, Malibu is off limits?" Edward asked, his temper rising slightly.

"Oh no sir, definitely not. It's just this part of Malibu that you can't access, at least by car. The normal part of Malibu is open to the public, just like any other part of the country."

This response made Edward doubly determined to find out what made this part of the coast so special.

"Look sir, if you're desperate to get in, there's a public shopping centre a quarter of a mile down the road which has access via a track to Malibu Colony. It used to be a secret until some star-spotters discovered it, but now its all over the internet, and anyone can come and gape at their favourite star eating breakfast through his kitchen window."

"I'm just curious to see what all the fuss is about, I'm not some sick in the head stalker," Edward replied, slightly defensively.

"I hope not Mr. Cullen, because New York are my nephew's favourite team, and I'd hate to have to call the police on you."

Edward did exactly as the guard who thought he was working at Checkpoint Charlie had suggested. He reversed, turned back onto the Pacific Coast Highway, and drove thirty seconds down the road until he found the turnoff for the local shopping strip.

He registered that he had a missed call from Tanya as he parked, and he checked the time on his phone. It had just ticked past 11.30 in the morning, and the sun was shining brightly, even though it was not a particularly warm day, especially by Californian standards.

* * *

><p>His phone vibrated again, and he looked down at the ID. Bella was calling him, again. Then he realised. He was supposed to be at a suit fitting that morning, 10am sharp. The whole thing had slipped his mind completely, and he winced as he answered the incessant vibrating iPhone, knowing he was about to cop it big time.<p>

"Finally!" came an exasperated voice down the line, "I've been calling you for an hour or more!"

"Sorry," Edward muttered, leaning back into the leather seat of his parked vehicle, and running his left hand through his hair with a slight wince. That rib injury still occasionally gave him trouble, especially when he forgot to take his prescribed pills in the morning. He was forgetting everything today it seemed.

"I called the hotel after your cell was out of range, then I called the hotel, I called Conan's people to see if you'd got the times mixed up and had gone there, I even called Tanya after I wrestled her number off her agent, whose number I had to extract from his secretary. And she admitted she doesn't know where you are either only after five excruciating minutes of coaxing! So in short, where the hell are you!?"

"Malibu," Edward replied, as quietly as he could manage.

"What are you doing in Malibu!?" Bella screamed down the line, causing Edward to fumble his phone in his haste to get it away from his ear.

When Edward didn't answer, Bella swore.

"You know what, I don't even care. I'm supposed to be your agent, but you ignore things I told you only yesterday, and just go swanning off to do whatever you feel like! You had commitments today, and you've completely blown them off!"

"I've already had the deputy-CEO calling in to find out what's happened to you, as has Peter who has now informed the entire organisation that your AWOL. I had to lie and say that you were feeling very ill because you weren't used to the pollution and needed to get out of the city!"

"I'm sorry," Edward muttered, "and thank you for covering for me."

"Yeah well, you better make sure you get your ass to the fitting that I've just rescheduled for tomorrow morning instead, otherwise you want be getting any cover from me, it'll be open season on you, no holds barred."

"Thank you," Edward repeated, just wanting to get the conversation over with now.

"Alright, I'll let you get back to your one day sabbatical or whatever your calling it, and I'm going to call everyone in that hotel if I have to tomorrow morning, to get you to that fitting."

Edward locked the Lamborghini, and glanced around the car park, wondering if it was entirely safe to leave it there, but he needn't have worried; this was Malibu after all, it wasn't exactly a field of beat up station wagons and a pickup.

He put his phone away, and wandered over in the direction of the beach. A rumbling of his stomach reminded him that lunch had been noticeably absent from his morning routine, and as soon as he had found the track between two of the stores that led to the more private row of shops on the other side, he headed for a diner, keen to see what the food was like in the exclusive 'Malibu Colony'.

* * *

><p>After eating his fill at a homely, yet decidedly average and extremely expensive American style diner where one of the waitresses seemed to spend as much time staring at him as she did actually making sure his food made it to the table in one piece. Not that it would have made any difference to the flavour if she'd dropped it into the garbage on route, given the taste.<p>

Still, having filled himself with an overpriced, bad quality breakfast, he continued East, following the row of shops until he happened upon a real estate agent. Caldwell-Browning Real Estate it was named, and it claimed to deal in only the finest properties available in Malibu.

Naturally, as a student of the property market, Edward was intrigued, and cast his eye over the properties that were posted in the window. Of course, none of them could be had for less than seven figures, and a couple of them were touching eight figure asking sums.

There was an old fashioned ring, as the bell above the door chimed as it opened, and Edward became aware that he was no longer alone on the pavement.

"Good morning sir, are you interested in receiving some assistance there?" enquired a tall, willowy woman, who had an extremely business-like manner to match her pristine attire.

Edward turned and smiled at her.

"I think I'm just looking, I'm a bit of an amateur investor in property, you know how it is."

He saw an expression of distaste cross her features, but suddenly it was overwhelmed by recognition.

"Mr. Cullen, this is a delightful surprise!" she exclaimed, and Edward was somewhat shocked that she even knew what football was, let alone any of the players who partook in it.

"Come, come inside! I'd be happy to show you our full range of properties," she said, waving away his protests, "even if it is just for your own enjoyment."

Edward somehow doubted that he wouldn't have been offered this chance if she hadn't recognised him, but felt unable to refuse, and walked through the door that was being held open for him.

The Caldwell-Browning office was not a very large space, which was not very surprising given local property prices, and like all businesses in hot climates, had its air-conditioning turned up a couple of notches too high, despite it not actually being very warm at all outside.

Edward was led to an alcove at the back, where the woman's desk sat, devoid of any personal touches. _Rachel Browning_ read the plaque on her desk, and Edward took a seat as she removed a large folio binder from her desk draw.

"This is a complete list of all the properties with have listed at the moment, if you would like to look over it, Mr Cullen?"

Edward wasn't entirely sure he would actually, despite his natural interest in the topic, but he didn't want to seem rude, so he accepted the folio with thanks, and opened it up on the desk.

"The properties are ordered by location, there is an index on the inside cover," she informed him, as he leafed through it slowly. He found himself drawn to the local properties, interested to see which ones were for sale in the vicinity. There were several beach front homes, and Rachel Browning gave a small spiel about each of them.

Edward flicked to yet another page, and found himself looking at the third house he'd found that was on Malibu Colony Road, which was the street to which he had been denied access. This house, however, was different from the others, to Edward's eye at least.

"Oh yes, delightful isn't it? It was built and is owned by a merchant banker from New York, who comes here during summers, only three years ago. Most unfortunately, he has suffered serious financial difficulties due to the Global Financial Crisis, and has had to shed assets in an attempt to remain solvent. It's a desperate sale this one, market value of nearly $15 million, but he's had to slash a third off that in an attempt to find a buyer, but in the current economic climate, there's no market for buying, it's only sellers."

"Really? That's such a shame, a really beautifully designed home he had himself there," Edward said, glancing through the photographs.

"Oh, that doesn't even compare to what it's like in person. If you would like, Mr. Cullen, I'd be more than happy to give you a tour, just for your own interest of course," the woman said, and Edward considered.

In the end he agreed, reasoning that even if he hated the place upon arrival, he would have received a lift to the beach which was where he felt like going anyway. After all, who didn't love Malibu?

* * *

><p><strong>Long time no see hey? Anyway, I feel I should clear things up a bit, because this chapter has some interesting references (at least I think so). The Beverley Wilshire is a real, five star hotel. The bath I'm referring to actually did appear in the Richard Gere and Julia Roberts film "Pretty Woman". The Malibu Colony is also real, you can't drive in unless you live there or have express permission from a resident. It's home to some of the most famous and wealthiest people on the planet, and some of the nicest and most expensive real estate as well. If you get a chance, take a stroll along the beach and you'll probably see at least a couple of people you recognise. <strong>

**As always, a review would be lovely!**


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